Seeking Serendipity
by wanderingandwriting
Summary: "We were a strange love, her and I. Too wild to last, too rare to break"— Jon Snow and Ireyne Lannister find themselves falling in love with one another, knowing that their love is doomed, even as the world around them continues to shift constantly, annihilating everything and everyone they've ever known. Will their story end in triumph, or will it go down in history as tragedy?
1. Prologue

**_Casterly Rock, The Westerlands, 281 AL_**

They said she was born at the start of winter, when the snows had started falling and the winds began howling. Some said she was born in the late hours of night, when the stars shined so brightly they almost made the sky look like black velvet adorned with diamonds. Others whispered that she was born in the loudest silence ever heard.

In reality, she was born at the start of winter, at night, hours after the Targaryen dynasty had fallen: the day Westeros would be transformed forever.

She'd come into this world screaming, tearing through the deadly silence and filling the halls of Casterly Rock with barely contained happiness. She lay swaddled against her mother, Joanna, who - finally, _after so long_ , sat alone in bed, finding a moment of peace to bond with her youngest one - could not take her eyes off her precious new baby, admiring this new life she had birthed, imagining it's life ahead and painting pictures of joy that were worthy of the best painter in the entire of Westeros. The baby, with her deep blue eyes and fine golden hair like all her siblings, cooed softly, making her mother's heart weep with joy. The baby girl seemed restless, squirming and wiggling her tiny arms and legs, yawning and revealing the dimples in her cheeks - _Tywin's going to have a hard time keeping the boys away from this one_ , Joanna chuckled to herself, cuddling her new baby, so utterly absorbed in memorizing her daughter, that she remained unaware of the growing pool of red around her, or the slight haze at the corner of her eyes.

Forgetting the war, the rebellion, his responsibilities now that there was a new king, everything, Tywin Lannister took long strides along the marble floors, smiling at every member of his household, shaking hands and laughing loudly. He crossed by Cersei, who was busy instructing the servants, ensuring that the feast to be held had plenty of food and wine, her face splitting with her wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. A roar of his eldest son's laughter tore Tywin's gaze from his daughter and he rounded the hallway to see Jaime twirling one of the Yelshire girls and swaying along the music that had filled his home at such an ungodly hour. And there, by the bannister, sat his youngest son - his short legs dangling over the ledge and the same smile as his siblings etched upon his face, a glass of wine in his hand. Tyrion raised his goblet that moment, hooting to get everyone's attention, and speaking clearly to the courtyard: "To my new and beautiful baby sister! May she get every happiness that the Seven Gods can bestow upon us! To Ireyne!".

The walls shook as everyone cried out her name and drank to her long life. They'd spend the entire night laughing and dancing, singing and drinking. The entire household of the Lannisters had celebrated all through the night and well into the daylight - after all, there was a new baby girl in their midst, with a fate that perhaps none of the 318 inhabitants of Casterly Rock could envision in their wildest of imaginations.

* * *

 ** _The Tower of Joy, Dorne, 281 AL_**

She thought she was going to die. She _knew she was going to die._ Could feel it - death - seeping through her bones, chilling her blood drop by drop.

Lyanna's mind was numb, from pain, from heartache, from love and loss. Her heart had nearly exploded with joy just a few hours ago, when she'd held her son, her baby boy, her dragon - her Aegon. She'd felt death then too, felt its looming presence. And so she'd set to work - memorizing her son's features, his tiny nose, the curve of his lower lip, the curls of his fine black hair, the grey of his eyes… She stared and stared at him, hugged him to her breasts and kissed him. Spoke to him - knowing he'd never know her words - but she still had to tell him of how loved he was, how his father would've given the world, had given the world away, to try and protect him. She'd continued holding her baby, through Wylla's murmurs of 'you're bleeding my Lady…you need to lie down', through Arthur Dayne's apologies of 'I'm sorry my Queen, I've let you down', through the night and until the moon disappeared and the sun rose up in its place, until her arms gave way and she could no longer even hold her child. Tears pricked her eyes then, flowing down her face in desperation. She was dying and slowly at that, each moment making her realize she was never going to see her son grow up.

She'd lost everything now - truly. She was going to die and loose this too; almost everyone was gone from her mind, blurring out into grey fog that clouded her vision at the corners, growing thicker every passing minute. The only people that mattered were here, in this very room.

"Promise me Ned," she whimpered, "Promise me." She didn't know what exactly she was asking of him - but she knew that this would have dire consequences for him; she _needed someone to promise her_. Lyanna held on to her life: a silk thread that was fraying in the middle, ready to snap at any moment, but Lyanna refuse to let go until she knew for certain that her boy was safe…

Her son - who was born a prince, heir to the Throne. A prince with a destiny upon his shoulders, a baby boy who was set to begin a journey unlike any other - cooed softly, as if sensing his mother's discomfort. After what felt like another eon, she faintly saw her big brother nod, saw him hold her son tenderly through the mist that clouded her eyes.

And Lyanna let go.


	2. Golden Madness

"Oh seven fucking hells!"

"My lady please, Septa Gretta will bury us alive if she hears your words."

"To hell with Septa Gretta! Although, she'd go to heaven... right?"

"My lady -"

"I mean she is a Septa. But the way she glares at everyone and is intent on diminishing every joy in my life - I'm not so sure about heaven."

"My la-"

"Anyhow, that's not my concern at the moment. My concern is finding that fucking dagger before anyone else does. Help me!" Realizing that her lady was a lost cause where concerning her use of language, Vaera scurried around the room searching for the ruby-hilted, Valyrian steel dagger. Now, Ireyne was not a careless person, in fact, she was one of the most calculated, heedful women ever, but that didn't mean that under the influence of one too many glasses of wine, she couldn't misplace the ancestral dagger that was given to her by Jaime - a dagger that belonged to her mother and meant more to Ireyne than every other worldly possession. Not only did that dagger give her strength, figuratively, knowing it was her mother's, and literally, because in all honesty, no one was completely safe in King's Landing - even if they resided at the Red Keep.

She was 7, when Tywin Lannister had travelled to King's Landing and informed Ireyne that she was to stay with Cersei and her husband, King Robert. King Oaf, she'd deduced bitterly to herself just a week after arriving here, and decided to find a way back home as soon as possible. Now, 11 years later, she was still living at Red Keep. It wasn't half as bad though, there was great food, good music and singing (not that she could sing to save her life), and dancing (a talent she never managed to learn, no matter how hard she tried) and her friends: Kenna Jorteu and Willem Tyrell, both belonging to obnoxious noble houses and being just as oppositely charming. Ireyne knew that if it wasn't for them, she would have practically run away barefoot from here. But if she ran away, she would take her blade with her. And for that she needed to find it first.

"My lady, I must remind you that King Robert wishes to speak to you today before breaking his fast. You have go see him now..." Vaera warily reminded her lady.

"Shit. Oh heavens! I forgot," Ireyne berated herself, "Vaera, be a darling and find my dagger, please? I know it's here somewhere. I'll be back soon."

* * *

Ireyne sprinted across the halls of the Red Keep, vaguely aware of the leering looks given to her by some of the guards, a few of the household members wishing her good morning, servants scurrying around carrying old sheets and new firewood. She spotted Cersei in the distance, gliding along with that bored expression of hers, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, heading towards the King's chambers. For some reason, this sight filled her with dread. Cersei and Robert Baratheon and herself in the same room... the thought made her shudder in disgust. Surely she hadn't done anything wrong. The last time she was summoned like this to the King's chambers along with Cersei, was because Lord Gaderin – one of King's Landings most notable merchants – had brought a proposal for his youngest sons' hand for Ireyne. Well, that wasn't why she was summoned actually. She was called after she had repeatedly failed to meet with Olivver Gaderin and, after eventually meeting him, rebuffed his marriage proposal and had threatened him with a dagger to his balls. The King and Queen – mainly Cersei, really – had been upset that the proposal, which would have been highly beneficial in easing the huge debt upon the King's account, was withdrawn and had lectured her on how the next time she did something so imprudent, she would have her wed to some lowborn bastard. _That Olivver shouldn't have grabbed my behind in the first place, idiot_ , she thought to herself as she ran a hand through her own golden tresses, smoothing out the knots that had formed in her hair from her impromptu search mission this morning.

That incident was over two years ago. Since then, many proposals had come forth for her. All of which were declined by a few well-thought lies on Ireyne's part, a few loyal servants who aided every lie she built, and her brothers – both of whom were adept a frightening away young men before they even had a chance, either by their sword or by their words.

Between her siblings and the rest of the crowd at the King's service, Ireyne had learnt enough to become immensely skilled at keeping to the sides when necessary, other times being the center of attention, reaping everyone's ardor. The key to it all was staying out of Cersei's way – the more invisible she became in Cersei's presence, the better her days turned out to be, Ireyne had deduced. Not that no one knew her. _Everyone_ knew her. She was the 'Lannister with a heart' as they called her down in Flea Bottom. People knew her, admired her, loved her – and she respected them back. She didn't love them in the manner that ladies in the stories her Nan told her about did; partly because she was highborn, and partly because she was after all a Lannister, Ireyne did view the underprivileged as somewhat beneath her. But she helped them, gave them alms and smiles – because she pitied them, realizing the fact that had she been born down flea bottom, her life would've been drastically different.

But her life wasn't that drastically different, was it? She was a lion of Casterly Rock, fearless and intimidating.

But now, standing in front of the King's chambers, wondering what exactly was in store for her beyond the threshold, Ireyne didn't feel all so fearless – she felt quite the opposite.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the polished oak door thrice. A moment later, her brother Jaime opened the door wearing an expression of revulsion on his face. Upon seeing her however, his blue eyes smiled, and he ran a hair through his blonde locks before leaning down to kiss her cheek and stepping sideways to allow her in.

"You're looking exquisite today my dear sister," he smirked.

"Just today?" Ireyne questioned, her eyebrows raised in mild skepticism.

"Well, if you insist, I must say you-"

"Will you look at that? If it isn't the beautiful one!" boomed a voice from the back of the room. There sat Robert, in his usual barely fitting garments, a glass of wine in one hand and a plate of soft boiled goose-eggs, bread, and bacon. His children, Myrcella and Tommen, sat on his right, and waved at Ireyne when they saw her.

"I believe your wife if the pretty one Your Grace, look at her. She's positively radiating today – must be because you're finally back from hunting" Ireyne sweetly smiled, shooting a glance at Cersei and not missing how she clutched her goblet a little firmer, or the stiff smile on her sister's face, which happened to be directed at her.

"Nonsense." Stated Robert, making both Cersei and Jaime glare at the king for a minuscule second. "You're the pretty one! I'd have married you but you were only a year old then, couldn't have known you'd be so pretty!"

Before she could cringe at the revolting idea and politely respond back to the king, he continued rambling on, "you're where she gets her looks from, Myrcella, she is also abs-" Whatever he was about to say after was cut off by another entry into the room, this time: Tyrion.

"Ah! Look at this! Family time, wonderful idea my king, I've missed my siblings" Tyrion said as a manner of greeting, his voice laced with equal parts sarcasm and amusement. Making his way to the table and nicking a piece of small fish, he sat back and looked around, nodding at Jaime, winking in Ireyne's direction and smirking at Cersei.

Taking cue, the rest of the party made their way over to the table, taking their seats and breaking their fast together. Ireyne couldn't help but glance around the table, anxious as to why they were all here; it wasn't often she found herself seated with the Baratheon's and the rest of her Lannister siblings. In fact, she often avoided the very people here in this room. Well – maybe not all of them. She certainly didn't avoid Tyrion but that might be because he spent most of his days down Lannisport, so if he happened to be in the capital, Ireyne chose to spend her time with him. Nor did she avoid Myrcella and Tommen. They were sweet kids, loving and kind and innocent – nothing like their mother who Ireyne resolutely evaded. She usually didn't avoid Jaime per say, but given his – _attachment_ – to Cersei, she tended to not see him as frequently as she would've liked. Ireyne also tended to dodge Robert, if only because he was obnoxious, boisterous and as un-kingly as they came.

As if the Gods wanted to test her further, the doors opened once more to reveal the heir to the Iron Throne – Joffrey. Where she placed on Joffrey's list of favorite people, she did not know. For Ireyne, he was always her spoiled, heir-to-the-throne, nephew who she despised yet pretended to love, all because how essential he could be to her future and its decisions, should he become king. He was spoiled and mean, she knew that. And Ireyne – and Jaime and Tyrion and Kenna and Willem – all felt it was best if she maintained her distance from Joffrey and put up a humble, loving-aunt façade in front of him.

"Ah, I apologize for running late. I couldn't find my sword while getting ready." Joffrey spoke in his boyish voice.

"Oh well you seem to have found it now; I'm glad you had the sense to bring it along and be prepared to protect us all should anyone try and attack us here, my love." Ireyne spoke in her deep, sultry voice, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice and vaguely amused to see a bright smile on her nephew's face at her words.

"And why would any little shit dare attack the King in his own house, eh?" boomed Robert.

"I don't know Your Grace, but envious men tend to do the most extreme of things. I'm sure you of all men know that to be true. And you have everything to be envious of..." Ireyne trailed off. Before Robert could make much sense out of her words, Jaime intervened.

"Of course he does. Its no easy task being King of the Seven Kingdoms, everyone's jealous of him. He is very admirable after all." And Jaime's eyes fixed on Ireyne, telling her to not speak on the matter anymore.

"King of the Seven Kingdoms. Protector of the Realm. And yet I'm still knee deep in debt to fucking Lannisters, with no Hand to assist me." The King lamented. It was true, it had been a few weeks since Jon Aryn's death and the King was yet to find a new Hand for himself. Ireyne often wondered who it could possibly be.

"Robert, you could ask-" Cersei started, before being cut off by her husband.

"No I couldn't." he stated. "I've decided who my Hand shall be."

The atmosphere in the room shifted. Where once an air of stiff formality and disinterest surrounded the table, now it simmered with barely concealed curiosity and inquisitive eyes. Sensing the forthcoming question, Robert clarified:

"Ned Stark. My new hand shall be Ned Stark."

 _Ned Stark?_ Ireyne questioned herself. She'd last seen him around 9 years ago, when he had come to King's Landing to see Robert. She doesn't remember why anymore, she was younger then, less careful about who did what and why. Even now though, all she knew of Ned Stark was that the Warden of the North preferred to keep away from the politics of mainland Westeros.

"Have you even asked him if he is willing to accept this position, my King?" Jaime questioned, frustration evident in his voice. Cersei just kept staring daggers at Robert, while Tyrion kept quite and stared resolutely at his food. Ireyne herself didn't know how she felt about this decision. The new Hand, whoever it would be, was someone whose presence would undeniably impact them all. Would Eddard Stark prove to be someone whose actions worked in her favor, or against it? Ireyne didn't have much time to ponder this burning question of hers, for she felt a strange chill down her back, the fine hair on her arms standing up at the King's next words:

"None of you shall question my decision. Get your shitty servants to pack your cloaks, we will all leave for Winterfell next week."

* * *

 **—(End Notes)—**

And that is the 1st chapter. We've met Ireyne Lannister today. Next, we'll see the Starks all well and alive once more. Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow :)

I'd love to hear your reviews on this chapter. How's Ireyne so far as an OC? Leave your comments in the review section and let me know! It's really motivating for writers to hear the readers' voices.

Until next chapter, cheers!


	3. Strangers In My Town

**_A/N:_** _I've responded to reviews at the end of this chapter. Until I figure out how exactly to use this platform, that'll be how i respond to y'all. Thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chapters! :)_

* * *

 ** _Winterfell_**

It had become suddenly chillier in the past two days, compared to last week. _Winter is certainly coming_ , Jon thought to himself as he took long strides in the dimly lit stone hallways of Winterfell. The past few days had been extremely strange and chaotic. What with the news of the King and his entourage heading for Winterfell, and the arrival of six untrained direwolf pups in the household, the Starks had had their hands full, not a minute to breathe.

They seemed to be taking out all stops in their preparation for the King. Jon is certain he's never seen this much meat and wine in the Winterfell kitchens. _Ever_. When he'd strolled in there with Robb earlier in the day, looking for Jory to tell him Maester Luwin wished to speak to him, Jon hadn't expected the place to be stacked with barrels of wine, wheels of cheese, and meat being cut on three different tables; cheese lined one whole table, stacked to the point where they could just roll off should he poke one wheel.

He found out eventually that that wasn't the case really, considering that while he distracted a boy who worked in the kitchens, Robb managed to nick a small wheel of cheese, which he hid under his cloak, and the rest of it didn't crash to the floor. The two boys had sneaked out then, a jug of ale in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other; Robb had suggested that they both go and break their fasts by the water banks today - since the King was due to arrive in the next two days, most of the chores had been completed, finally leaving plenty of time for relaxation. Knowing that once the guests were here, he wouldn't be able to see Jon much, Robb thought it best to spend some time with his brother, hoping to cheer his mood up a smidgen.

Later that afternoon, all the Stark children - and Jon - had also been warned on how to behave properly once the King and his family were here. His father, Ned Stark, had gone on talking for nearly an hour - reminding his sons to not spar with one another at any given time; telling the girls to not speak too much, only answering if spoken to; do not roam the halls at night; _all of you stay away from the West Halls, no need to disturb the Royal family_ ; do not let the direwolves roam around; no drinking; _no swearing, boys. I'll have your heads if I hear you cursing around them_. After he was through lecturing them all, he dismissed them, saying he'd see them at dinner that night. That was nearly a week ago. Lord Eddard Stark, for all the years Jon had seen his father, had never looked so tense and stressed. Jon wondered why, the King was his father's friend, so why be so anxious over him visiting? Of course Jon didn't get the opportunity to linger on the thought for too long, for there was always work to be done, things to be carried around, orders to be obeyed.

"Jon?", a voice sounded from behind the boy, who stumbled a bit, not expecting anyone to be awake at this ungodly hour.

"Father."

"Where are you off to lad?"

Jon hesitated a moment, before replying: "the kennels. Thought I'd check in on my direwolf pup..."

"If you are going to feed Bran's wolf, don't lie about it." Ned stated, peering over at Jon, knowing full well what the boy was up to. Even though it had been Bran who'd begged for the direwolves, he continuously forgot to feed his own pup - and Jon being himself, had been secretly taking care of Bran's pup as well as his own.

"He just forgets sometimes Father. Just a boy." Jon mumbled.

"Aye, he's 7; won't be 'just a boy' forever. You need to let him do things by himself. He'll fall, break. But then he'll get up again, by himself. Far stronger than he was before."

"Yes Father.", Jon stared at his father, who seemed to want to say something, his hesitation evident, but he merely smiled, running a hand through Jon's hair and muttered: "the moon's been up for a long time now. Best get some sleep now, its an early morning tomorrow". And with that Ned Stark left the hallway as silently as he had come in, leaving Jon to tend to the pups.

* * *

The sun rose that morning again, its warm light seeping through the dark corridors of Winterfell, climbing atop the highest turrets, sneaking underneath the doors, bursting through the windows. Before long, the Northern castle was filling up with voices, some yawning, others shouting orders. The servants of the house bustled around, cleaning ashes and embers from the night before; they hurried about the kitchen, tossing fresh dough in the ovens and slicing wheels of cheese; housemaids rushed through the halls, waking up its residents and changing sheets in rooms of whom ever was up. Word had reached the castle that the King was merely hours away, jolting everyone into action - making sure everyone was ready for the arrival of the royal guests.

Jon stood, bathed, clean shaven, wearing freshly washed, crisp clothes, behind his father and the rest of the _legitimate_ Starks at the entrance of Winterfell. It was moments like these that he realized he could never truly be a part of the Starks, no matter what his father or Robb or Arya said. He always stood a step behind them all on every formal occasion, next to Theon and Jory. As a boy, Jon would dream of standing in the front with them all; he wondered what it would feel like, to be respected like that: like a highborn; what if would feel like to be a Lord, a Warden.

They'd been standing outside for quite sometime now, before they heard the sound of horse hooves making its way through the gates. In a riot of gold and red, the Baratheon and Lannister party made its was to where the Starks stood. Jon noticed a small boy with light hair and a taut smile on his face riding ahead. He presumed that was Prince Joffrey. A man in a golden and beige armor rode next to the Prince; another man wearing a headpiece shaped like a dog's face rode on the Prince's other side.

Once the entourage stopped, the King stepped out from his carriage, the Queen following him. The short, paunchy man who had stepped out greatly dismayed Jon, who'd been expecting a rather impressive, lean and strong king. King Robert did, however, greet his father warmly - utterly in opposition to his wife's icy demeanor. While the King and Queen were introduced to the rest of his family by Ned, Jon noticed another figure climb out of the carriage behind the King's.

Jon supposed that she was Ireyne Lannister, the Queen's sister - she had to be judging by the same golden hair they shared, and the same face shape with its high cheekbones. He knew he shouldn't stare; wasn't supposed to address the Royal family unless absolutely necessary. But he couldn't help it, she was breathtaking: the girl who'd stepped out from the carriage wore a deep maroon dress; her golden curls fell a few inches above her waist; her skin was fair, so very fair for someone who lived in the South with plentiful sunshine - her small nose and cheeks were tinged pink though, _from the cold_ , Jon deduced. She seemed to have big eyes, which complemented her heart-shaped face. She stood a foot behind Queen Cersei, her rose-pink lips curled into a shy smile, revealing the dimples that just added to her beauty.

"Look at that, now that's something I'd want to put my prick in," Theon whispered to Jon, eyeing Ireyne from head to toe - repeatedly eyeing her.

"That's not saying much, is it? You'd put your prick in anything you could Theon." Jon grunted back, careful to not let anyone else hear them. He was also aware of the annoyed huff and grunt Theon let out beside him, but Jon chose to ignore him. And just for a moment longer, he indulged himself in staring at her...

Taking a deep breath, Ireyne smoothed out her dress and tucked her hair behind her ear, gingerly stepping forward to greet her hosts. Robert and Cersei had already been wished by the Starks, and judging by their retreating forms ahead of Ireyne, being led inside to get warm. As she looked around the huge stone castle, she became vaguely aware of Jaime's hand on her back, nudging her forward.

"Lord Stark." Ireyne smiled as way of greeting the would-be Hand. Ned Stark, she observed, had dark hair that seemed to touch his shoulder tops, pulled back by a string, and gentle, kind grey eyes.

"Lady Ireyne, I presume?" he spoke in his deep voice, glancing towards Jaime. At her brother's nod, Lord Stark continued, "When I last saw you, you were no more older than my youngest daughter now. I'm greatly honored to have you here."

"Just Ireyne would suffice, and the honor's all mine, Lord Stark." Ireyne smiled back, stepping sideways to greet Lady Stark who smiled politely.

"You must be tired, my girls would love to show you to your chambers, Lady Ireyne." The red-haired woman commented, glancing at her daughters who smiled back at Ireyne, who in turn shot another of her famous smiles at them. _So much fucking smiling today_ , Ireyne cringed inwardly; her jaw ached from the fake smile she wore on her face. The Starks, so far, seemed rather humble people - nothing about them was comparable to the Lords and Ladies of the South, from their woolen clothes to their polite smiles. Ireyne wished she could respond in a much more genuine, gracious manner, but it was horribly colder here than in King's Landing, and it had been a very long journey. Wishing Lady Stark would just ask her daughters to take Ireyne to her chamber so that she could change out of this dress and warmup by the fire, hopefully with a glass of wine and some cheese, Ireyne nearly missed Lady Starks introductions, faintly registering the fact that she should raise her hand when the eldest Stark son was introduced.

"...And this is Robb. My eldest," Robb Stark stepped forward - at a small glare from his father which Ireyne pretended to not have noticed - and took her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it and speaking in a deep and rich voice like his father,

"It's wonderful to have you here my Lady."

"It's wonderful to be here," she commented, scanning the crowd behind the Stark family. A maester; a few guards, it seemed; a septa; an old man with a rather funnily braided beard; a young man with a sneer on his face; another younger man who stood right behind Ned Stark, his curly-haired head bowed low - the only one not staring at her.

She wondered who that was, and wished to get a better look at his face, but Sansa and Arya Stark had stepped forward, and were waiting for her to start walking behind them. Thanking the Gods for finally allowing her to get warm, Ireyne clutched the skirt of her dress and hurriedly followed the two younger girls, desperate for some warmth and rest.

* * *

 **A/N** : in italics is the review I received. My response is the one following the em-dash.

Vulcran:

● " _So both of them lost their mothers and never knew them. Great start for a relationship also nice prologue." —_ It is a parallel between their lives; I can't wait for the story to unfold. But first, Jon and Ireyne must meet and see where their relationship goes...

● " _Very nicely done and Arya will definitely like her._ " — Arya probably will, we still have a long way to go on that though

Hi I'm Ella:

● " _I love the writing style! Hope you update more soon I can't wait!"_ — I've written a handful of chapters in advance so I'll update it quite quickly over the first few days. I usually aim to post 1 chapter a week. And I'm so glad you like the writing style! I only hope it continues to please you :)


	4. Secrets Held In Moonlight

Ireyne had long understood the fact that people loved throwing feasts for the King. Or rather, the King loved expecting - and receiving - feasts in his name. Ned Stark had organized a feast tonight in honor of his guests. Ireyne had to admit, the plentiful roast meat, fresh bread, wine, music and laughter was highly entertaining for quite some time. But then, as always, Robert Baratheon's boisterous and flirtatious behavior had tuned Cersei's mood sour, and made all the hosts uncomfortable as well. Not that the King noticed.

As Ireyne sat at the high table, she felt unusually warm. The stifling heat of the hall and the loud, barbaric babbling of the Northerners was becoming too much for Ireyne. It had been a long month's journey to Winterfell, and the barely 4 hour rest was no where near enough for Ireyne to catch up on her fatigue. She'd spent most of those 4-hours sitting by the fire, shivering even under the fur cloak that Sansa had shyly lent her, unaccustomed as she was to such a cold climate. Ireyne gently stood up and excused herself from the table, rushing outside as gracefully as possible, vaguely aware of some eyes following her all the way until she was out the doors. Walking along the stone hallways, Ireyne rounded a corner, and strolled through a new hallway with wide arches in its side which allowed fresh air in.

The harsh winds struck her face, carrying away the stifling tensions of the Hall. The moon had cast its pale light by now, illuminating the corridors in a soft glow. The air outside smelled like grass and roast meat and leather, and Ireyne would've been in complete peace had it not been for the incessant sound of metal hitting something. Following the sound, Ireyne reached the courtyard, finding the source of this commotion.

"You look agitated. Is that the new style in the North now?" Ireyne quipped, noticing the boy she'd seen earlier this morning - _the one with the good hair_ , she thought to herself.

He whipped around, his face slacking as he stared at her a moment, then he opened his mouth slightly to say something, thinking his words over, eyes darting around, before scrunching his face into what Ireyne assumed was a polite expression.

"Whatever kind of expression you were aiming for, my Lord, you miserably failed." Ireyne stated. The young man continued ogling a bit longer, then slowly spoke in a deep, husky voice that reminded her of Ned Stark:

"Not a lord my Lady. I apologize if I've bothered you."

"No, it's alright."

"-"

"-"

"Who are-"

"Would you like me to escort you back inside? It is cold out here." He mumbled. The thought of going back inside was both revolting and appealing to her. She knew she probably shouldn't be out here, away from all the Lannister soldiers and household members; making up her mind, Ireyne stared back down at the boy.

"No, thank you. I would much rather stay outside for a few moments." When he simply nodded his head and said nothing more, Ireyne continued: "Who are you? I am afraid we weren't introduced properly this morning."

He hesitated a bit at her words, she could see his shoulders tensing and a look of displeasure crossing his face. He thought for a moment before replying:

"No, we weren't introduced. I - I'm Jon. Jon Snow." He waited a heartbeat, before adding, "Ned Stark is my father..."

"...And Lady Stark is not your mother?"

"...No."

"Oh."

"My Lady I-"

"Glad we got that out of the way, Jon Snow. It's nice to know your name. Mind telling me why you're out here and not at the feast?"

Jon stilled at her words. She had a smooth, silky voice - deeper than he'd expected, but with that undeniably seductive flair to it. And she stood, leaning against the wall casually, her dusky blue dress trailing behind her, strands of golden hair falling out from her intricate braid; she wasn't turning up her nose either, or showing any disappointment at him being a bastard. She simply stood there and looked at him plainly, as if he was no more than any other man she might run into here.

He didn't know if that pleased him, or annoyed him.

"I don't think I should be down at the feast, my Lady. I- uh - I might offend the King." Jon explained, careful to leave out the fact that _he_ didn't think that; Lady Stark thought he would be an insult to the Royals.

" _Offend_ the King?", Ireyne smirked, raising her eyebrows. "The King wouldn't even notice you. He's too busy enjoying mulled wine and women to notice the presence of anyone else."

Jon and Ireyne stood across the courtyard for a moment, silently staring at one another, unsure of what to say to the other. Ireyne stood, simply judging the bastard. Her first impression of his was that he was... _alluring_ ; he was handsome, yes. But so were many other men: Loras Tyrell, his cousin Willem, her own brother Jaime - whom so many women fawned over, Sether - the coin masters son at Casterly Rock etc. etc...

Jon Snow was handsome too, with his inky curls and pouty lips and lean figure. But he also had an air of mystery surrounding him; he appeared reserved and quiet, yet there was something undeniably attractive about him, something that tugged at Ireyne's heartstrings, making her feel like a foolish young girl fawning over a pretty boy; something about him made her want to talk to a low-born boy, even if she was well-aware of the consequences of doing so.

For his part, Jon knew he should probably excuse himself now, while he had the chance - she was a Lannister afterall. She was the sister of the Queen and he was not supposed to be around her. His father had explicitly told him - warned him - to avoid the guests as much as possible; to avoid attracting attention to himself. But his feet wouldn't move, it was as if they had lost coordination with his brain and were functioning according to their own will. He continued gawking at her for what felt like the millionth time. Her dark blue dress had a floaty scarf with it that wrapped around her middle and covered up her chest to fall behind her in a long train. The said scarf had slipped a little, giving Jon an eyeful of the top of her breasts which were visible through the deep neckline of her dress.

Hurriedly averting his gaze, Jon took a deep breath in, trying to calm his nerves that were suddenly on fire, while simultaneously trying to muster up the words he needed to say. He was so distracted by the whole ordeal, Jon didn't even notice Ireyne walk forward and stand in front of him until she spoke again softly:

"Jon Snow. Are you alright? You look very... faraway?", Ireyne whispered. At her voice, his eyes flicked up to meet hers. His dark grey eyes flickered to meet hers. Their color reminded her of rain clouds, powerful clouds capable of either bringing a storm, destroying everything, or bringing abundant rain, nourishing the earth, nourishing souls.

"Aye. I - I should-", Jon whispered back. Her sharp, cerulean eyes bore into his own, making him forget his words, making his blood flow just a bit faster through his veins. _Gods, she's beautiful_ , thought Jon as he stepped back; Ireyne's face scrunched up in confusion at his action.

"I should go - I have to go my Lady. I shouldn't be here - with you, here. I - Do you need help finding your way back inside?"

"Uh - no. No. I'll just follow the sounds of the King's laughter and find myself back inside, thank you."

Jon held her eyes for a few seconds - an unspoken agreement forming between the two: this meeting was a secret; they were to pretend this never occurred. Ireyne was the first to break her gaze away. And with a curt nod, Jon turned around and walked back to where he had dropped his sword, picking it up and walking away, not once turning to look back at Ireyne. She stood there a moment longer, letting the cold calm her suddenly heated nerves. She was a little disappointed, if she was being honest with herself: he was a bastard. She had hoped for him to be some lord, or a squire at the very least. That way she could have an excuse for talking to him in broad daylight. Perhaps the Gods weren't at all easy on her today.

As she watched his retreating form, Ireyne desperately hoped that he would turn around once, for she wanted to catch a look at his face one last time...

...At the end of the corridor, Jon turned around, surprised to still see her standing in the middle of the deserted courtyard.

Both Ireyne and Jon smiled at one another, a hesitant uplift of their mouths, before turning around, and continuing on to find their way back to their respective chambers.

* * *

 **(End Notes)**

That was Jon and Ireyne meeting for the very first time! I'm so excited to post what happens next...

Until then, don't forget to leave your reviews to let me know of what you think of all this so far :)


	5. Gods & Ghosts

It had been two weeks since Ireyne had arrived to Winterfell with the King and his entourage, and while she had expected to roam the North and have frequent ventures outside, Ireyne found out quickly enough that her job in this tour was to merely sit and smile. And go to sewing classes, pray, sometimes sit with Myrcella and Tommen. And that was about it.

It swiftly became Ireyne's most boring journey ever.

Her days had become monotonous and repetitive too: wake up and get ready; let Vaera brush the tangled hair; go down to the Hall for breakfast; sit next to Jaime and across from Cersei; eat quietly, speak only when spoken to; head to embroidery class with Sansa and Arya.

 _Avoid running into the bastard._

Sit and work there for an hour or so; 'your embroidered flowers are so pretty, i'm sure this will turn out beautiful, Lady Ireyne', 'nonsense Sansa I can barely stitch properly. Now, your work is what is called beautiful.'; _because I don't want to stitch and knit_ ; go back to the Great Hall for mid-day supper; talk to Jory for a minute; tease Bran about something, anything, everything; talk to Tommen and ask him how his day was.

 _Do not talk to Snow._

Go with Catelyn to the Godswood and pray; _but I don't ever pray so often_ ; smile at everyone you see on your way back; waste a few hours away in bed; go for supper; talk to Robb a little; avoid bantering with Tyrion; look around at everyone gathered for dinner and make small talk.

 _Do not look at Jon Snow._

Bid good night to everyone; go back upstairs; take a bath; let Vaera brush out hair; change into nightclothes; get into bed.

 _Do not think of Jon_.

* * *

It had been two week since Jon had greeted - or rather stood behind, while the Starks welcomed - the King and his entourage. In the two weeks since, Jon had mostly kept to himself, practicing his combat skills and riding whenever the guests seemed to be busy elsewhere. He spent most of his time in the hidden courtyards of Winterfell, teaching Arya how to fight with his sword; other times he'd go down to the kennels, checking in on Ghost and making sure his direwolf was well-cared for.

He saw the King a few times, the first time being when the King had demanded to 'see Ned Stark's bastard with my own damn eyes'. Ned had summoned Jon then, hurriedly introducing him to King Robert and just as quickly ushering Jon away from his watchful eyes, not letting the King interrogate the young boy.

Jon also spent most of his time avoiding Ireyne Lannister. It wasn't an easy task given the fact that she seemed to be everywhere. In the great hall when he went down to break his fast; she was found in the courtyard talking to the Lannister household; could hear her laughter in the courtyard when he would practice archery with Bran; he'd see her from the windows in the eastern tower, knitting with his sisters; could see her deep red and dark blue and inky purple dresses floating around the halls of Winterfell; her golden hair that reflected the sunlight that fell upon it; could smell the flowery, sweet scent he noticed she emitted back when he met her that night...

But beyond the small talk they'd made back on the first night of her arrival, Jon and Ireyne hadn't even held each others gaze for a moment since, let alone talked to one another. Somehow, both seemed to resolutely want to evade the other. Jon, because he was asked not to speak and mingle with the guests, especially the King and the Lannister siblings; Ireyne, because she was always taught to steer clear of bastards and such.

And this very tedious setup of theirs - avoiding each other, sticking to their routinely tasks, yet somehow frequently being intrigued by the other - continued well into another long week, and would have perhaps lasted the entirety of the time that the royal entourage was at Winterfell had it not been for Ireyne Lannister's damned curiosity, Jon Snow's damned heroism, and Robert Baratheon's damned love for hunting.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to ask Father? He'll let you come along if you ask Jon," Robb huffed as he and Jon made their way to the main gates of Winterfell, where Ned Stark and his men were gathering today in order to depart for hunting - something that the King seemed hugely fond of, considering he demanded Ned to arrange for a hunting trip.

"Aye, he will. But he won't like it - he asked me to stay behind," Jon replied, trying to disguise the disappointment he felt.

"And what will you do here?", inquired Robb, "Ask him! Come with me, we'll keep distance from the others, it'll be fine..."

"Thank you, but I'd rather not be within a 100 feet of the King,", lowering his voice so that only Robb would hear him, Jon continued: "You, Lord Stark, enjoy the King's company and catch some deers 'ya damned little shit'..."

Jon managed to evade the punch that Robb flung in his direction, before the two brothers burst out laughing and continued making their way to the front.

* * *

The moon hung high up in the sky now, the stone castle much more quieter now - partially because it was late night, and partially because King Robert and many others were gone on a hunting trip for a few days. Ireyne had let her handmaiden, Vaera, retire for the night much earlier today as there wasn't much to do anyway. Ireyne sat in her bedchamber, by the glowing fire, reading a book about the _First Men_ that she'd borrowed from the Library. She was so lost in reading her book, turning page after page, that she completely disregarded the one open window in her chamber, the source of her now freezing hands and feet.

A low howl rumbled the air outside, distracting Ireyne from her book. Shaking her head, she turned back to her book, reaching out for the glass of wine next to her, when another whine sounded through the air. It repeated itself thrice more. Ireyne couldn't help but wonder what made that sound. When the weak howl reached her ears once more, Ireyne hurriedly stood up, throwing on her thick fur cloak and tucking her dagger into the insides of her cloak.

She gingerly stepped outside her chamber, looking around to see if any of the guards stood by. Seeing no one, Ireyne, turned around the corner and climbed down the staircase, making her way outside.

Once she reached the cold wind outside, she waited for the sound again. It had sounded like an injured dog; perhaps she could tend to it? When it howled again, she traced its sound and started walking in its direction: around the wall that held the window to her bedchamber, past the Library Tower next, behind the hedges lined, beyond the gate of Godswood. The howls seemed to have moved each time she got close enough, and reaching the Old Gods now, they seemed louder, more desperate, although not moving anywhere; she must have gotten close. Ireyne walked through the Godswood, searching for some frail, injured dog.

It was loudly silent in here at this hour. The only noise now seemed to be her own footsteps as they crunched fallen leaves and twigs. She was vaguely aware that this was perhaps not such a safe idea - that she should probably return to her bed. Ireyne turned around, trying to recall her path back when she found herself face to face with a large dog. A large white dog with gleaming red eyes, half concealed under the shadow of the tree. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst out.

"Just a dog, just a bloody dog", she murmured softly.

The dog in question stepped forward and Ireyne realized belatedly that that was no dog. It was a wolf. A wolf that was now baring its teeth at her and growling lowly. Suddenly the wolf lurched forward, causing Ireyne to let out an ear-splitting shriek and jump back. Her foot caught on some root and she fell on her back, eyeing the wolf coming closer still, snarling. Ireyne gripped her dagger underneath her cloak, ready to strike. The wolf stood above her, sniffing her. It bared its teeth fully once more, opening its mouth and leaning forward.

Then several things happened at once: the wolf barked; Ireyne unsheathed her dagger pulling it out from under her cloak; a voice yelled "Ghost!"; she struck her dagger into the wolf's right forelimb, just as it turned around from her, slashing a deep cut.

The wolf turned back towards Ireyne, but before it could so much as step forward, a deep Northern voice sounded from behind.

"Ghost! No! Down boy, get back here", Jon commanded the wolf, who obediently limped away from Ireyne. Letting out a sigh of relief, she couldn't help but notice the flash of anger on Jon Snow's face as he saw the deep gash on the wolf's limb.

Ireyne, deeply confused as well as concerned now, stood back on her legs again, brushing the dirt from her cloak and placing her dagger away. Jon stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again:

"Are you alright my lady?"

"I- uh- yes. I'm...fine. Thank you."

"You should get back inside."

"I should."

Jon was kneeling now, checking the wolf's wound and running his hand through its white fur.

"Is he - were you aware that there is a wolf running about this place?" Ireyne inquired, keeping her voice as steady as possible, albeit still a bit hesitant.

"He's not just a wolf. He's a _direwolf_." Jon said, his smooth, calm voice laced with hints of anger. At her confused look, he continued, "he's mine. We - the Stark children and I each have a direwolf as our pet."

"Oh."

"-"

"-"

It made much more sense now as to why Jon was so disturbed by the hurt wolf. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Jon tore out a piece of cloth from his cloak, and began wrapping it around the direwolf's limb, trying to stop the crimson liquid that now tainted its pure, snowy fur.

"I'm sorry Jon, I didn't know he was your pet..." Ireyne trailed off.

"Its alright. You couldn't have known." And just for a moment he smiled at her, and Ireyne thought everything was going to be just fine; but then Jon continued: "I forgive you."

" _You_ forgive _me_?" the blonde's eyebrows arched up in question. He seemed like a nice boy, and she had wounded his wolf, and she was sorry for her action, but a bastard still had no right to decide whether to forgive her or not, did he?

"Jon Snow, I did nothing that I need to beg forgiveness for."

Jon stood up now, his nostrils flaring a little, his hands clutched into fists.

"You did nothing? You stabbed my direwolf." He spoke slowly, doing a very bad job at concealing his irritation.

"He attacked me!"

"He did no such thing. He only saw a stranger and was sensing if he could trust you. Ghost wouldn't have hurt you!"

"Well I didn't know that! For all I knew that awful wild thing would've ripped by heart out." Ireyne snarled, "It shouldn't even be here. They'd have that vile creature killed elsewhere..."

"This isn't _elsewhere._ I'm sure you Lannisters love killing harmless animals down West but this is my home, and we don't do that here. And its my pup, you can't say such stuff about him." Jon growled angrily.

"It's a fucking wolf, for Gods sake Jon, you can't have that thing as a pet! Don't defend it!"

"It's a direwolf! And the direwolf is the sigil of our house, _Ireyne_."

"And a lion is the sigil of my house. You don't see me wandering about with my pet lion anywhere, do you?!"

"Well, I don't know you, do I? Maybe you do have a fucking lion somewhere..."

"Jon Snow, you are absolutely at fault in this conver - "

" -Before you tell me my faults, you should know: I don't fucking care!"

Ireyne and Jon stood still for a moment, breathing heavily and glaring at one another. The lion roared in Ireyne's chest, and the wolf howled wildly in Jon's - both aware of their blood boiling and their desire to strangle the other.

It was Ghost's weak whimper that managed to tear both of them from their aggressive glaring, causing Jon to huff loudly before turning around and helping the direwolf out of the Godswood, while Ireyne picked up her skirts and whipped her hair back over her shoulder, before marching haughtily past Jon and back towards her chamber.

* * *

 **(End Notes)**

2 Chapters back-to-back because I'm great at putting off research papers... I hope you liked this chapter though!

And I know, Jon and Ireyne aren't really getting along as well atm but hang in there with me. What were your thoughts? Do you think Ireyne overreacted? Did Jon? I'd love to hear your voices so leave me a little review and make my day :)

Until next chapter, cheers!


	6. From Dawn

Crows didn't drink blood, Jon knew that for a fact. Yet staring at the crow perched on the ground in front of him, drinking from a bleeding wolf, Jon couldn't help but feel nauseous; he wanted to help, he wanted to shoo the black bird away and tend to the wolf. But his feet seemed stuck to the ground, the cold snow surrounding him seeping through his feet and chilling every nerve, the early morning mist clouding his vision slightly. He couldn't move.

Gold didn't pour down from the sky, Jon knew this too for a fact. Yet staring at the gold coins unexpectedly raining down from the pink sky above, Jon couldn't help but feel agitated; he wanted to turn around, go back home and forget he ever stumbled across this strange sight in the woods. But his feet seemed stuck to the ground. He still couldn't move.

Jon's ears were suddenly pounded by the sound of galloping hooves, thousands by the sound of it. As if to add to the madness, his ears picked up the roar of lions - _lions in the North?_ , he thought to himself, utterly perplexed with the proceedings of his surroundings. And before he knew it, fire was raining down from the bleeding sky, melting the snow that surrounded him, making the sound of the hooves intensify, the lions roar louder, even the crows were cawing uncontrollably. And Jon could feel his head spin, see the darkness cloud his eyes, the sounds too loud for him, his heart beating far too fast for his body to catch up, his vision was swarming.

The last thing he knew was the surprising scent of fresh jasmine lingering in his nostrils amid the ones of smoke and dirt, before he hit the ground, succumbing to the dark and losing all consciousness...

Jon's eyes opened suddenly and he sat upright in his bed, wiping his eyes, glancing around his room to make some sense of the world.

"A dream", he muttered softly, "it was only a dream...". Jon noticed he was drenched in sweat; he could still feel the heat from the fire in his dream, still smell the smoke and jasmine. Shaking his head at the absurdity of his nightmare, Jon let out a low sigh, sliding out of bed and starting his daily routine of getting ready for the day.

He was lacing up his undershirt by the window, staring at the mist outside and the sun slowly creeping upwards, when he saw _her_. Jon had stubbornly avoided any interaction with Ireyne in the past three days. While Ghost had been treated by Maester Luwin - after many questions of "who did this, Jon?", and different versions of "I swear he got cut over a sharp rock in the Godswood." - Jon was still upset at he behavior. And Ireyne seemed to keep to herself too, but considering she hadn't told anyone about what happened that night, Jon couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for yelling at her.

Right now though, he could see her, Ireyne - he was sure it was her, judging by the maroon cloak the figure wore, and the golden hair peeking out from underneath the hood - riding across the moor alone. Jon assumed she was headed toward the forest. She had to, because there was nothing else in that direction.

For a moment, Jon considered going after her for she shouldn't be headed there alone, should she? But then he remembered that he had promised Arya that he would teach her archery today, before anyone else woke up, and Arya would kill him if he missed their meeting today...

* * *

Walking under the pale summer sky, Ireyne deeply breathed in the fresh, earthy scent of the woods, relishing the crispness surrounding her, the flowery scent lingering faintly due to the last flowers of the summer... It truly was beautiful here. She walked alongside the small river that gently flowed beside her, its waves waving to her, the rushing sound helping to calm her stressed senses.

She'd woken up much earlier than she intended to that morning. Thinking of nothing better to do, Ireyne decided to slip off to the nearby forest. Sansa had mentioned that there was a river in the heart of the woods that her brothers sometimes took her to. It had sounded beautiful from the way she'd described it, so Ireyne thought it was worth a visit. And so far, she was being proven right.

It was eerily quite here - so much different from the hustle and bustle of Winterfell. And as she walked, Ireyne's mind couldn't help but wander off towards a certain bastard. In the three days since their encounter in the Godswood, Jon had appeared to vanish off the surface of the world. She had tried to locate him one night, hoping to apologize for her behavior; perhaps she shouldn't have yelled at him and tried to dictate the ways of the North. And while she felt sorry - truly - for hurting his pet, she was still a bit angry at him for holding her responsible. She hadn't known it was a pet wolf, not a wild one. Not many people got to blame her and get away with things, and yet Jon Snow had - a bastard was accusing her of false treatment and there was nothing she would do about it.

Ireyne was so lost in thought that the rough hand that gagged her mouth with a cloth and constrained her body came as an ultimate shock - not giving her a moment to scream for help at all...

"An' what's a pretty thing like ye doin' out he'e, eh?" a gruff voice spoke in her right ear. His scent invaded her nostrils - he smelt like sweat, feces, dirt, and rotten milk. Ireyne vaguely registered that 3 other men, dressed in heavy, tattering furs and holding spears, who had jumped out from behind trees, were standing a few feet from where she stood. They were all leering at her.

She struggled, or tried to, but the man was far too larger, far too strong for her to do much. And he had captured both her hands in his large one, while a leg of his had trapped both of hers, immobilizing her and leaving her completely defenseless. Blood pounded her ears, rushing so fast through her veins that Ireyne could barely hear a sound. Her head was spinning, aching, as she desperately thought of ways to escape. Her chances looked bleak. She knew it.

One of the burly men stepped forward, close enough so that his long beard touched the top of her head.

"Yer a beauty aren't ya? I wonder how pretty that cunt is, ha!", he roared, making the others laugh as well.

Ireyne's eyes watered, she could feel warm tears tracing their path down her cold cheeks. Her mind was numb, completely numb. She was shaking, she knew, but she couldn't think beyond her terror - fear - now. All she was aware of was his dirty hand that was now stroking her face; she wanted to cringe, to turn away but the man behind her held her still. The man in front of her now drifted his hand lower, over her neck and over her breasts, squeezing there harshly, making Ireyne cry out harder, yet not a sound escaped her gagged mouth as she struggled between the two men.

But they only laughed.

And then his hand was moving lower, much lower, ready to hike up her skirt and - _please, no_. Her mind willed for all this to stop. And as the men laughed, their obnoxious roars filling the air, their stench invading her nostrils, more tears flowing down her cheeks, her body shaking vigorously, and his hand moving dangerously upward, under her skirt...

Her eyes shut tightly, a lone tear escaping, as Ireyne kept repeating her mantra, _no, no, no, please, no, no, no, please no, stop, save me, please, no, Gods no, no, no, plea-_


	7. Till Dusk

Sinking deeper into the tub of hot water, Ireyne let the heat take control of her skin, sighing in relief as the water scalded her body up to her neck. The heat seemed to burn away the memories of the morning past. Ireyne could still not wrap her head around the events that had occurred today; her mind was still half numb and half shocked - it was as though she had experienced everything from someone else's body and not her own. She could feel fresh tears stream down her cheeks, her body shaking once more.

"Oh Ireyne. Shh, there now, everything is fine." Vaera, her handmaiden, whispered, sitting next to her on a stool, running her hands through Ireyne's hair. When she'd found her way back to Winterfell, Ireyne had carefully managed to evade every other soul in the castle, sneaking into her bedchamber, and only then had she allowed herself to break down. Only Vaera knew at this point of whatever happened. And Ireyne wanted to keep it that way. She knew she'd get herself in worse trouble if anyone found out she had sneaked off in the morning.

"Vaera, please leave me alone for a while?" Ireyne softly murmured. Upon noticing her handmaiden's crestfallen face, she continued, "I just- I want to be alone for a while. Please."

Ireyne waited until she caught a low murmur of agreement from the young girl, and heard the heavy oak door close behind Vaera as she left. Leaning her head on the edge of the tub and letting her eyes fall shut, Ireyne's mind wandered back to the woods, rethinking everything that happened in the last 12 hours...

* * *

...They laughed.

The sound echoed in her mind as his hand moved lower, much lower, ready to hike up her skirt and - _please, no_. Her mind willed for all this to stop. And as the men laughed, their obnoxious roars filling the air, their stench invading her nostrils, more tears flowing down her cheeks, her body shaking vigorously, and his hand moving dangerously down, under her skirt...

Her eyes shut tightly, a lone tear escaping, as Ireyne kept repeating her mantra, _no, no, no, please, no, no, no, please no, stop, save me, please, no, Gods no, no, no, please..._

The man holding her legs abruptly shifted, pulling her backwards and throwing her on the ground. Ireyne landed on her back, leaves scrunching up under her weight. She braced her weight on her left hand, the right one sliding back underneath her cloak and clenching at her dress.

One of the men moved forward now, "it will be easier this way pretty lass..." he smirked. The other three men stood a few feet behind, leaning against tree trunks, waiting for the show to begin. The bearded man stood over Ireyne, legs placed on either side of her, as he began to undo his pants and bend down at the same time.

He was a few inches away from her, when Ireyne pulled out her dagger from behind her and, with quick, deft hands, swung her hand to the left side, neatly slitting his throat. Blood came spurting out, staining her delicate hands and coloring her pale yellow dress crimson. The man was holding onto his bleeding neck, choking on his blood, eyes wide as he fell at her feet. The other three men stood stock-still, shocked, for a few moments.

And in those few moments, Ireyne hurriedly got to her feet and started running in the opposite direction.

She didn't know how long she'd been running - it might've been seconds, minutes, hours or even days. Ireyne wasn't sure how time moved. She could hear those men following her, their panting breath growing louder and louder, their hefty footfalls sounding closer and closer...

Out of the corner of her eye, Ireyne saw something large and white rush past her, followed by a blood-curling scream from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the white wolf from Godswood mauling one of the men while the other two continued chasing her.

And she ran, further, faster, straining her aching legs and willing herself to keep running. She kept hearing screams of pain and howls behind her but not once did she turn back. Looking ahead, Ireyne could faintly see a figure running towards her. She panicked a little, bracing herself to stab whoever it was. Men behind her and a man in front; she seemed to have no escape. However, as the man drew closer, the blonde realized just exactly who it was - _Jon_.

"Ireyne?!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in her appearance.

"Jon..." his name rolled off her tongue. Looking behind her, Jon caught sight of the man chasing her. As if that jump-started his senses, Jon grabbed Ireyne's hand in his own and roughly pulled her behind himself, before lunging forward to fight the wildling off.

Ireyne watched in fear as Jon drew his sword from its scabbard, and aimed it at the burly man. They seemed to engage in a rough, uncoordinated dance of sorts. The bearded man lunged and attacked every which way, his movements hasty yet forceful. Jon seemed to dodge and jump around much more swiftly, his movements fast yet rather defensive. For a few moments they seemed to dance around in circles, attacking and defending; the wild man seemed tired of this game, however, because he threw aside his spear and abruptly knelt, surprising Jon. His distraction was all that Ireyne's attacker needed for he now easily grasped Jon's legs and pulled forcefully, managing to knock Jon off his feet. The man stood up and kicked Jon's sword away, kicking him sharply in the abdomen.

Ireyne stood in utter horror now. If she'd been scared a few moments before, she was now terrified. She watched the man beat Jon mercilessly, kicking his shins and stomach repeatedly.

Jon rolled around in the ground, his body aching, too overwhelmed to gather his senses again and fight back. From his position on the ground, Jon couldn't see Ireyne; he knew she was behind the wildling and could only hope she had enough logic in her to run away while she had the chance. The man laughed, kicking Jon over on his back, and knelt over him. Jon - through the pain that clouded his vision and threatened to pull him into a dark void - saw the man raise his clenched fist up high - ready to strike down on his face; Jon's eyes shut tightly, mentally bracing himself for the impending blow.

But the blow never came. Only something warm sprayed on his face, smelling very strongly like iron - like blood. Jon opened his eyes to see the vicious man choking on his own blood, a deep gash evident on his throat. Jon glanced behind the man to see Ireyne standing there, her eyes wide and chest heaving, holding the wildling's chin in one of her hands while the other was by her side, a blood drenched dagger clasped tightly in it.

"You..?" Jon couldn't finish his sentence.

Ireyne could only nod her head, words escaping her.

Jon didn't move.

She still said nothing.

They stood motionless for what felt like ages, neither Jon nor Ireyne uttering a word - perhaps not even breathing for a few moments. They simply looked at the ground, at the blood pooling on it, staining everything red. Eventually, Jon seemed to regain his senses for he began to stand up, staggering a little, biting back moans of pain. Ireyne continued to stand still, the shock and weight of what happened - what could have happened - sinking in, making her freeze.

It was a gentle touch to her hand that broke Ireyne from her reverie. She flinched violently at the sensation without realizing what it was. Jon stood closer to her than she realized, and it was his warm hand that had touched hers. He seemed hesitant, unsure of what to do, what to say to her.

Thinking of nothing better, Jon eventually reached for her hand again, keeping his grey eyes locked on her blue ones. Gently taking hold of her smaller hand, Jon wrapped his fingers around hers, tugging at her hand to force her to start moving with him.

Throughout the duration of their walk back to Winterfell, Jon didn't let go of her hand; Ireyne was extremely grateful for the contact for she felt like her mind and body were two separate entities at the moment; she felt herself shaking, unsteady on her own two feet. Jon's hand seemed to root her to the ground; he seemed to be the only reason she was putting one foot in front of the other repeatedly. He had to be the reason considering he was the one almost dragging her - albeit gently - back home.

Sometime during their impromptu hike, he'd draped his fur cloak over her smaller form, effectively warming her and concealing her crimson-tainted dress. Ireyne didn't know exactly how he'd managed to steer her away from everyone else and secretly escort her to her chamber without a soul knowing what had happened. Ireyne had told him in one strict sentence that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone that she had wandered off to the forest by herself - and got caught. Jon understood she wanted to avoid the torment and degrading glances she would get if word got out - people in Westeros were excellent at formulating rumors and false stories about girls which aimed to besmirch their name, especially if they were of noble birth and house.

And so he'd agreed to keep silent, still maintaining their skin-to-skin contact - only letting go of her hand once she was outside of her chambers safely.

* * *

Memories of the day rushed back to Ireyne who sniffled a bit once again and firmly shook her head, trying to relieve herself of the torturous thoughts. Glancing outside the window, the youngest Lannister noted the sun was setting - the time for the sun to set in the North was far greater than in King's Landing, she dully comprehended.

Dressed in a simple white nightgown with tiny red flowers creeping up the bottom, Ireyne sat in a chair in front of the mirror, letting Vaera brush out the tangles from her blonde hair. Usually, Ireyne did such tasks herself - or at least preferred to - but tonight, she was far too tired, both emotionally and physically.

"Do you think he's alright?" Vaera soft, accented voice spoke in the far too silent bedchamber.

Ireyne didn't need to ask about whom Vaera was talking about.

"I don't know." Ireyne responded. "He should be..." she trailed off, uncertainty apparent in her voice. She hadn't thought back to him once since she'd locked herself in her room today. Tyrion was informed that his sister wasn't feeling well and requested to be alone. He'd tried to see her, but Ireyne was adamant about letting anyone in. The whole day had passed and she'd been awake from dawn till dusk. She was tired, her bones aching and her mind begging for sleep - the fur draped bed looked so _so_ enticing; inviting enough to let almost every other thought evaporate from her brain. Except one nagging thought.

* * *

Jon sat on his bed in his chambers, events of the day running around in his restless mind. He supposed he was lucky - the wildling hadn't bruised his face, only his ribs and stomach and back. It made it easier to hide the events past from everyone else, at least until his father came home. Jon had decided to keep his lips sealed, knowing the kinds of rumors and trouble it would bring Ireyne if he let his tongue slip. But he couldn't just let the knowledge that a couple of wildlings had wandered so close to Winterfell be hidden for long. Jon therefore surmised it was best to let his Lord Father know of the unfortunate occurrence - in _private_. He would do so as soon as they came back from their hunting trip.

The downside of his decision was the fact that he had to invent a mad story to explain why he was limping and in pain. Jon decided that the 'I fell off my horse when it stumbled over roots in the forest' story was his best coverup. So far, he'd narrated his incredible story - which gained intricate details each time he retold it - to Jory, Mikken, Arya, Maester Luwin, and Bran. Jon had an exceptionally difficult time evading the maester when he said he wanted to check for bruises and wounds, knowing that Maester Luwin would recognize the bruises for stemming from something far more sinister than falling off horses.

But all this meant that Jon hurt more than ever before. He knew his chest and abdomen had several, large, deeply hued bruises at this point. And they ached terribly so. He was wondering if there was any way he could obtain milk of poppy to sooth his battered body for a while and have a good night's sleep tonight, when a soft knock sounded at his door, so soft he almost thought he'd imagined it.

Groaning and irked at whoever it was on the opposite side of the door, Jon limped his way off the bed to unlock it. Irritably, he swung open the heavy oak door much more forcefully than he intended to, finding himself face to face with-

"Ireyne?"


	8. Is That My Heartbeat, Or Yours?

**_"Our backs tell stories_**  
 ** _no books have the spine to carry"_**  
 ** _―_** _Rupi Kaur_

* * *

"Ireyne?"

Jon stood with one hand on the door, his eyes in disbelief. Ireyne stood just beyond his door, clutching a jar of some kind of pale green balm.; she was dressed in a pale white nightgown that had tiny red flowers on the bottom. A fur stole was draped across her shoulders and her hair was pulled back in a messy knot with loose blonde strands framing her face. She looked tired; there were dark shadows under her blue eyes that were just as dull at the moment. Jon also noticed a small, bright red, swollen scar running down her neck, where her throat met her collarbones. His gaze seemed to have lingered a moment too long upon her pale neck, for Ireyne softly cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her face.

Blushing red, Jon stared at the floor. He wanted to say something. He knew he should've said something. But he had been rendered speechless by seeing her - again. And the sharp, throbbing pain in his shoulder and abdomen did not ease his current situation. Torn between pain and embarrassment, Jon's words seemed to have melted away, leaving him with nothing but red cheeks and shy gaze in hand.

"Jon." Ireyne finally spoke hesitantly, acknowledging that the curly-haired man in front of her was going to maintain his deadly silence. "I - may I come in?"

"Huh?" Jon's head now hurt in addition to his already sore body.

"Come in, may I? Please? I had - I wanted to say something and I don't want to have this conversation standing in a chilly hallway." Ireyne declared, desperately hoping to the Seven that he wouldn't turn her away now. That would be far too embarrassing, and a great waste of the energy that it had taken her to get here. Gods, she really prayed he wouldn't turn her away.

He didn't. Jon silently stepped sideways to allow her move past him and inside his chambers. As Ireyne gracefully walked inside, his nose caught a faint trail of jasmine - _she always smells like that_ , Jon vaguely gathered.

"I know you haven't gone to see a maester," Ireyne spoke in her clear, rich voice as soon as Jon shut the door behind him. "I'm assuming its because I told you not to mention today's - incident - to anyone."

She was staring at him now, standing in the middle of his room, searching for him to either agree with or decline her statement. Where she stood, the fire casted a warm glow upon her body, making her light golden hair seem even brighter. She radiated light. She stood in his room, _bright and beautiful_ , thought Jon wildly as the sight of her continued warming his insides. Jon's mind seemed to take a moment to catch up to his ears; he finally settled on simply nodding his head in agreement to her words.

Distress flitted across her face for a second before she went back to that neutral expression of hers.

"Well, thank you for adhering to my request, Jon Snow."

"It was nothing, My Lady."

They both stood there in the center of the room, the fire warming them, unsure of what to say to each other. Ireyne's mind was overwhelmed — she suddenly wanted to say so much, yet also go back to her chambers and sleep. She forced her brain to think over her next words to Jon, and Jon only. How it was best to approach the real reason she was here.

She had to phrase things delicately, she inferred as much, so as to not make things awkward between them and scare him away.

"You should probably get naked, Jon."

The words had escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think them over. She almost cringed to death over how her own words sounded to her ears. It wasn't how Ireyne had planned on phrasing it but eloquence seemed to come naturally to her at this moment it appeared.

And Jon - Jon's eyes were wide, so wide that Ireyne was afraid they would fall from their sockets and roll under the bed and he'd have to spend the rest of his life without eyeballs and she'd have to live out the rest of her days worrying that she had rendered such a handsome man to such a fate.

Shaking her head at her own absurd thoughts, Ireyne tried to ponder her words carefully so as to explain things to Jon. She wondered if she had made a mistake coming here; he probably thought she was mad. She shouldn't have come at all. She was tired and disoriented and saying stupid things and and. And she just knew she had to help him. He was hurt because of her; she was safe because of him.

 _No, this is very much necessary - be tactful; be careful; be confident Ireyne_ , she thought to herself.

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, it all sounded so terrible. What I meant was that you haven't seen a maester, Jon, and you were hurt badly today, I'm sure. It's best if your wounds don't become infected. They need to be cleaned and treated, I can help with that. So, I meant to ask you to take off your shirt Jon. It'll be easier for me to tend to your wound than if you were to attempt to do the same...", Ireyne trailed off hoping he would see sense.

Gulping audibly, he nodded his head twice. Slowly, Jon turned around and unlaced his shirt before pulling it over his head - wincing as he did so. When he turned back around, his eyes locked in with Ireyne's. Her unwavering gaze was solely focused on his eyes and Jon could feel himself blush under this intense attention she was giving him.

 _She's supposed to be blushing not you, you bloody idiot_ , Jon thought to himself.

Ireyne eventually broke her gaze away from Jon's, slowly taking his sight in: his black hair that fell in curls around his face, tousled yet so endearing. She observed his face, the stormy grey eyes, the strong nose, the plump lips... She could see a tendon jump in his throat each time he swallowed - the only sign of him being as uncertain as her right now for his face didn't give any anxiety away.

His ribs and stomach were painted blue, black, and red, scattered in random patterns and sizes. His pale skin peaked from underneath his bruises, looking like stars scattered on a summer night sky.

He looked like art - and art wasn't supposed to always be pretty. Art was supposed to make you feel things; art was supposed to stir emotions, and looking at Jon like this was definitely stirring up a number of emotions in Ireyne.

She reached out, her cold fingers ghosting over his ribs. She faintly heard Jon's sharp intake of breath and a low hiss. Meeting his eyes, she saw pain and uncertainty in his stormy eyes.

"You should sit down." Ireyne instructed, happy to see that Jon followed her words without much inquisition.

She'd brought a jar of medication with her - a mix of Aloe Vera and coconuts from Dorne, dried herbs from Qarth, and oils from Braavos. It was used intensively at the Red Keep to sooth and heal everything from minor cuts to the largest of bruises gained at tourneys. Ireyne figured they used something like it in the North too but she didn't want to go and ask anyone, fearing she would raise suspicion. So she'd brought stuff from her own collection.

Opening the jar, Ireyne scooped some of the salve onto her fingers before sitting on the stool placed in front of his bed and gently applying it to his bruises. For the most part, Jon sat unnaturally still - barely breathing or moving; his hands were clenched into fists by his side, pressing trenches into the mattress.

He did wince a few times though, such as when she pressed a little too hard on a swelling on his right side. She realized that he had cleaned himself of blood and grime ages ago for all his cuts were neatly washed even if they weren't coated in any medication. But it must be painful, so she persisted on. She was leaning over him slightly, her brows furrowed in concentration, lower lip caught between her teeth.

Jon was adamant to keep as still as possible right now. He knew he should have probably told her to go back to her own chambers - should've thanked her for her thoughtfulness and kept the balm and bid her goodnight at the door itself. But the fact was that he couldn't tend to his wounds himself. He had tried. He had failed. His left shoulder was hurting terribly, making him wince whenever he moved it the slightest. And he hadn't got any healing balms in his chambers either. They were all with Maester Luwin and asking him for the ones that Jon needed would most definitely give his secret away. And the idea of finally having someone tend to his wounds today was much too appealing for him to decline her offer. So against his better judgement, Jon had let her in.

Now, as she leaned over him between his legs, massaging that ointment that felt so soothing on his burning flesh, Jon tried not to think of her curves or soft hands or the scent of jasmine overpowering his senses now. He tried to not think of her breath against his forehead and, after some time, his neck. He tried to not inhale her scent; he focused on not reaching up and touching her; forced his hands to stay put and not reach over to tuck that stray lock of golden hair behind her ear.

Plus, it was slightly amusing to see her periodically huff and try to blow the errant hair out of her vision.

For the next few minutes, Ireyne simply worked in silence, rubbing the salve over his wounds as gently as she could before securing lengths of soft white cotton around his arms and ribs. By the time she had finished patching up his abdomen, Ireyne noted that Jon's skin had turned paler than usual and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He definitely needed to sleep this off.

"There. That should help with the sting a little, I daresay it'll heal quickly but..." Ireyne trailed off not knowing what to say now that the task was over.

"Thank you. I - I appreciate your help - thank you, My Lady."

"I think you can call me Ireyne now, don't you?" Ireyne smiled softly, her dimples peeping slightly.

Jon's mouth turned up at the corners. His eyes seemed to gain some of their sparkle back.

"Thank you Ireyne."

"You're welcome."

They sat there in his room for a few minutes, both quiet and contemplating how to diffuse the bulky awkwardness that had descended upon them now.

"Jon, I had someth-"

"I wanted to say-"

Jon and Ireyne stilled for a moment before they both laughed out softly. Jon looked downwards before meeting her blue eyes again and saying: "You can go ahead first. You were saying?"

Taking a deep breath in, Ireyne continued to say what she had been meaning to for quite some time now.

"I'm sorry, for everything. I - I misjudged you. I - You meant well that night; your wolf meant well. I just never had seen one and I always thought they were so wild that you must be ins-" she stopped herself from rambling further, breathing in and out before continuing, "I was wrong to insinuate that it was your fault or that that wolf was trying to harm me. I panicked and I said stuff I shouldn't have. And despite it all, he — Ghost, you said, right? — still saved me today, he ripped those men apart he..." she couldn't continue talking about today. It was too soon; the memory was too fresh in her mind; the feelings too raw and disturbing just yet. She could feel her eyes beginning to water. No, she couldn't let herself get carried away at the moment.

"I shouldn't have hurt your direwolf, I'm truly sorry Jon."

"You couldn't have known. It's not your fault Ireyne - it was a misunderstanding." he smiled kindly at her and Ireyne's heart soared at the sight despite that nagging despair she still felt. "And anyways, I should be thanking you for what you did today. You saved my life."

"Well, you were supposed to be saving mine, Jon Snow." she teased slightly, enjoying the embarrassed look on his face. She reached out and grasped his hand in hers. The action prompted Jon's eyes to go wide once more.

Ireyne squeezed his hand lightly and said: "I think we both saved each other today - one way or another. Don't you think so?"

"Aye, I suppose we did."

The comfortable silence that followed was better than anything else - Ireyne was glad the awkwardness between them had seemed to melt away for now and they continued sitting in front of the fireplace in his chambers - Ireyne on the chair and Jon at the edge of his bed.

Eventually, Ireyne sighed, aware of the fatigue still seeping into her bones. She glanced upwards to chance a peak at Jon, only to catch him staring at her. The two met each others eye for a second before hastily glancing away again, embarrassed due to Gods know what.

Knowing she'd been here for far too long already and that she needed to get back soon, Ireyne stood up smoothening her nightgown.

"I should go now. Its late."

"Of course."

Jon did his best to not show his disappointment at her words. He liked seeing her. He didn't know her but he wanted to. She was definitely more than he'd thought at first glance - she was beautiful, no doubt, sharp-witted, and very clever, yet she wasn't as conceited as the other Lannister's appeared. He wanted to know more about who the real girl was behind that powerful name and pretty face.

Standing up, Jon became highly aware of how close she was; his heart was thrumming in his chest, almost threatening to burst forth. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat?

Little did he know, she was pondering the same thing as she gnawed at her lower lip softly.

"I should..." Ireyne couldn't formulate words any longer; Jon was far too near; far too warm; _far too attractive - no, don't even go there_ , a voice snarled at the back of Ireyne's mind.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Every conversation we have seems to reach this point." She muttered to herself more than him.

"What?" Jon implored, his face scrunched up in confusion and pain.

"This long pause - where neither of us speaks? We always end up here..."

"Aye, I suppose we do."

"You don't talk very much do you?"

"I guess not-"

"You should, I mean you have a lovely voice! And I like talking, so -"

"- I noticed," his lips were quivering, trying to hold back laughter. Her cheeks were aflame - _why_ was she babbling in front of him like a stupid little girl? Shaking her head, Ireyne clutched the fur around her tighter as she went ahead to open the door. Glancing back, she saw that Jon had followed her to the door and was smiling that infectious smile of his.

Biting her lip to refrain from grinning back like an idiot, Ireyne softly whispered, "Goodnight, Jon Snow".

And then she was gone, closing the door behind her silently, almost not hearing his equally soft whisper of "Goodnight, Ireyne".

* * *

— ( **End Notes** ) —

Oh oh look what happened here tonight... Do let me know what you think of the story, and Ireyne Lannister as an OC, so far! I hope to hear from you all in the reviews section **:)**

● **bellaphant** commented " _i'm very much enjoying this story so far. I wish the chapters were a little longer, but the quick updates makeup for that. I can't wait for the next one. —_ Thanks love! It's my first fanfic so I'm kinda nervous and so happy that you guys like it so far. I too wish the chapters were longer but I originally posted this to wattpad and readers there tend to like shorter chapters, hence the shorter length. Some of the future chapters are longer though! And I think as I become more and more comfortable writing this, my work is turning out to be longer too. I'm still learning... But thanks for hanging in there with me and reading this! I'd love to hear your comments on the future chapters as well!


	9. 1, 2, 3 I Think Of Thee

_**"How then did it work out, all this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it is liking one felt...?" **_

**_—_** _Virginia Woolf_

* * *

Morning dawned slowly for Ireyne. She flitted in and out of consciousness many times during the night, sometimes waking up shaking and sweating from dreams of horrid, stinking men clutching her, immobilizing her. Other times she'd woken up from dreams of wolves and snow and _him_. Needless to say, it was the strangest night of Ireyne's life and she was much too glad when the sun finally rose high enough for the Winterfell household to wake up.

Vaera had ventured back into her chambers a few minutes before Ireyne woke up again. Her handmaiden's dark brown hair whipped around as she got Ireyne's things ready for the new day, pulling out a new dress and cloak and matching shoes. Ireyne sat up in her bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes as her mind still buzzed with the events of yesterday. Thanking the Gods for what felt like the millionth time, Ireyne took deep breaths trying to calm her agitated nerves. _It's all over, you're safe_ , Ireyne reminded herself silently. She was shaken, a little traumatized by the idea of what had nearly happened, how everything had almost gone awry.

"Someone came to bed really late yesterday..." Vaera spoke in a sing-song voice causing Ireyne to flush a dark shade of red at her handmaiden's words once she realized that Vaera was talking about her visit to Jon's chambers last night. She'd known Vaera since she was 10, when she had arrived at King's Landing with her Father. Being left in Cersei's care was not something Ireyne had looked forward to then. She had cried, sniffled, and begged Cersei to let her go home - back to Casterly Rock and back to her friends that lived in and around her home. Eventually, Cersei had managed finding Ireyne a handmaiden her own age, whose main chore was to play with Ireyne. Years later, today, that brown haired little girl, Vaera, had become one of Ireyne's most trusted and cared for friends. And that meant Vaera could very well tease her Lady whenever she liked without any repercussions.

"I wasn't late." Ireyne replied back in a clipped tone. For some reason, she wanted to keep her moments with Jon a secret. It was a strangely nice feeling, keeping a secret from the rest of the world. It was almost thrilling to think she had wandered into a bastard boy's chambers at night without anyone's knowledge.

"No. You were just gone for an hour or two. I thought you'd return in 15 minutes. What did you two do anyway?" Vaera asked, her eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on her face.

"We didn't - I- I was - Vaera!" Ireyne stammered. She never stammered. Ever. Growing up in King's Landing had taught Ireyne to appear calm and confident in the most dire of situations. She had lived with Cersei and trained with Jaime for heavens sake, she always knew how to appear calm and retort with witty comments. So it was a surprise to herself when Ireyne felt her mind go awry and her mouth starting to babble away.

"He - he was hurt. Badly. I just took my time tending to his wounds. I couldn't let him suffer because of me. I swear that's all I did. I can't believe you'd think -"

"Shut up."

"...Vaera!"

"What? You're babbling now my Lady. I was only teasing. Do not fret so much. Now go and take your bath before it gets cold..."

* * *

However he had imagined the next morning to begin, it was not _this_. Jon's chambers were deadly silent for a whole minute before Robb nearly shouted:

"Were you out of your goddamn mind?!"

As soon as Ireyne left last night, Jon crashed into his bed, desperately craving sleep, and unconsciousness. Yet he could barely keep the wide smile off his face, even as he slipped into darkness and let the clutches of sleep embrace him.

And while he would've preferred to sleep a little longer, he was roused from his sleep by a wide awake, distressed Robb Stark. Upon returning from the hunting trip during the earliest part of the morning, Robb's first action was to venture down to the kitchens for some ham, bread, and ale. His second action was to get that food and himself into Jon's chambers, so as to catch up with his brother, whom he expected to still be asleep.

Jon was, as Robb had expected, asleep. What he hadn't expected was the sight of Jon's heavily bandaged chest that looked painful even as he slept. Overcome with fear and anxiety as to what could have possibly happened to him, Robb had quickly locked the door and roused Jon from his slumber. And now here they stood, with Robb in utter disbelief at Jon's recount of the incident with Ireyne.

"What? Do you think I should've just stayed behind then?" Jon questioned back.

"Yes! Look at you! That man nearly beat you to death! You could've died!"

"And Ireyne could've been kidnaped or raped or killed! You think I should've let a girl just wander into the woods by herself? Have you thought of what could've happened to her?" Jon retorted back, anger bubbling up inside of him at Robb's words.

Realizing what he'd been saying, Robb pinched his nose before shaking his head.

"No, no you're right. She - you should have gone behind her. You definitely should have. I just meant why didn't you take someone with you? Going alone? After Father mentioned not to? After a deserter was found there not too long ago? After continuous reports of wildling sightings here and there? Jon..."

"I know! I... She was almost near the woods when I saw her from the window. I didn't think much of it. I just thought she'd get lost or something. I didn't think she'd run into those wildlings."

The brothers stayed quiet for a moment. They both knew that what Jon did had to be done. Robb knew he would've done the same thing. But now that it was done... what now? The question lingered in the air.

"Are you going to tell him? Father?"

Jon hesitated a moment. He knew he had to. But he didn't know how his Father would react.

"I suppose I have to. No choice there, right?"

Robb could only nod his agreement at Jon's words. Sitting down beside Jon, Robb let out a breath. Jon's actions weren't that unexpected; Robb knew Jon would risk anything to save people - he was selfless like that. But Robb wasn't so sure he trusted Ireyne Lannister. What if she blamed Jon for all this? What if she created a huge issue out of all this? _She probably doesn't even care how much Jon is hurt due to her shenanigans_ , Robb thought bitterly to himself. His eyes took in Jon's hunched form and bandaged, bruised ribs, another question forming upon his lips: "Did you go see maester Luwin? What did you even tell him to hide the truth?"

Jon blushed at his brother's words. He didn't want to tell anyone about Ireyne coming down to tend his wounds. It was his own deep secret - a forbidden memory; something against the rules; a bastard and a beauty in the same room.

"Why are you blushing?", and now Robb's voice was deeply incredulous.

"...I am not."

"Jon...?"

"Robb..."

"Jon."

"Robb."

"Jon!"

"What?"

Robb continued staring at Jon, unrelenting. He knew Jon was hiding something. He could read his brother like an open book. He could tell Jon was keeping something from him. He could sense that something happened in his absence that was being hidden.

"Jo-"

" - I didn't see maester Luwin. I had my wounds cleaned and tended after myself.", Jon replied. "Don't worry Robb, I'm fine." he added as an afterthought.

"But how did you even manage that? You definitely need someone else to, you couldn't have done so properly by yourself."

"I didn't. I - Ireyne, she helped me."

Another deadly silence swallowed them for a whole minute before Robb nearly shouted again:

"Seven hells! What's been going on behind my back?" and now Robb's voice was laced heavily with intrigue, a smirk plastered on his pretty face.

"Nothing! You... She only felt bad for some reason and -"

"Oh shut up with all of that. Did she actually patch you up?"

"... Yes."

"Seven hells!"

It was a strange notion, Jon realized belatedly. They'd grown up hearing stories about Lannister pride and power, wit and cunning. Lannister's weren't supposed to be this kind - they held themselves above others. And so, the idea that a Lion of Casterly Rock, a lady at that, would go out of her way to fix a bastard was beyond absurd. It was odd. It was improbable.

She wasn't what he'd expected her to be. She was different - Jon didn't know if she was different in a good way or bad, but she was different. Ireyne at least had enough guts in her to acknowledge her own faults; she had guts to defend herself - and others. If she hadn't slit that wildling's throat yesterday, Jon knew he would've been dead by now. Moreover, she'd come to help him afterwards as well. She didn't need to, but she still did so anyway even if she was as tired as she'd looked last night. Jon's heart swelled at the very thought, at the idea that she'd done something for him, something so unexpected and caring, something no one expected her to. And suddenly, he could almost feel her soft hands on him again; the way they felt in his own; the way her golden hair flowed; the way her warm sighs had fanned his face; the scent of fresh jasmine that followed her around; the dimples, the blue eyes, the red dresses, the silky voice...

Robb's throaty, rough voice seemed to shatter his peaceful daydreaming.

"Well, I suppose not all Westerners are alike then?" Robb stated, glancing in Jon's direction. Robb never teased Jon too much He knew when to stop - like now, even if he did desperately want to goad his brother. He could sense Jon's barely contained joy over Ireyne Lannister's display of gentleness. Not many highborns treated him respectfully; he was still a bastard even if he was Ned Stark's bastard. Few ladies allowed themselves to linger over Jon, considering his social status. And Ireyne Lannister - Robb had to admit, was gorgeous even if she belonged to the family that she did. But perhaps she was nicer than he'd thought? Maybe she wasn't as conceited as her brother Jaime, whom Robb had had to endure during the seemingly endless hunting trip. Regardless, she was still a Lannister, and Robb highly doubted she was that much different than the rest of her kin.

This wasn't the time and place to discuss that notion, however; Robb didn't want to taint Jon's mood now by bringing up any topic of conversation like this one. And so, Robb remained silent.

His half-brother, with a blank face that, in all actuality, did nothing to fool Robb, merely responded with a "Aye, I suppose not all Westerners are alike."

* * *

Ireyne was nearly done getting ready for the day; her beige and maroon gown was laced up; her skin was glowing, thanks to Vaera's generous massage of jasmine oil. Her cheeks had a happy, pink flush to them, and not because of the cold air of the North. Ireyne was brushing out tangles from her golden hair when a knock sounded on the door. Her face suddenly perked up as she vaguely wondered who it could be, silently hoping it was Jon. Why she did hope so, she didn't know. But the thought warmed her insides enough to make her ignore all other thoughts for now.

Darting across the room, Ireyne stood with a hand on the door. She smoothened the creases on her dress and ran a hand through her hair ensuring it was tame enough. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open to come face to face with -

"...Jaime.", Ireyne stood blankly for a second, a flurry of emotions boiling up inside her, none making sense.

"Ireyne! Hello to you too! And I missed you dearly too, dearest sister. I'm completely fine, thank you for being so concerned." Jaime ranted in a sarcastic tone, his face remaining calm, his mouth turned up mischievously. Walking past her and into her chambers, Jaime sat himself down at the edge of her bed, his eyes searching Ireyne's intently.

"Jaime, it's nice to see you again. I'm glad your trip was well. And yes, I was concerned." Ireyne spoke, shutting the door behind her. "I didn't know you were back. I wasn't expecting you, so I was just a little surprised that's all. I'm sorry for the rather underwhelming welcome."

"Not at all." her brother smiled back kindly enough. "I'm sure it was an unexpected sight."

Jaime had always been nice to her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was so much younger than him; maybe he pitied her sometimes for not having a mother while growing up. Either way, Jaime had proved to be more like a father figure to Ireyne than her own father, Lord Tywin, had ever been. And that meant he could usually see right through her facades.

"So, who was it you were expecting then?"

"Hmm?"

"I wasn't who you were expecting. That means you were expecting _someone_." he clarified, emphasizing the word 'someone'. "Who?"

Ireyne stood expressionlessly, her mind racing a mile at a time. The question unnerved her; she hadn't thought Jaime was paying such close attention to her words. If she was careful enough, she knew could get by easily. Jaime didn't need to know about Jon. _What is there to even know about him in conjunction to me_ , Ireyne internally wondered.

"No one.", at Jaime's raised brows, she continued, "I usually see Sansa Stark early morning. She walks me to break our fasts together. I was expecting it to be her like usual, not you." The lie rolled off her tongue smoothly. Her tone was even, unwavering. Ireyne didn't blink or fidget her hands as she said it; she smiled sweetly and genuinely. And it seemed convincing enough to Jaime, for he merely nodded and looked away for a moment.

"Have you seen Cersei yet?" Ireyne inquired by way of changing the topic. Her question had its desired effect.

"...Yes, I have actually. I escorted the King to his chambers; I saw her there." her brother drawled, his face sharp and tone clipped. "She looked well in the morning light".

"I bet no one, except you, could tell how 'well' she looked. You probably know how well she looks in different lighting, different _angles_..." Ireyne trailed off, smirking slyly. She knew - like Tyrion - the reality of her twin siblings, their - attachment, for lack of a better word - to one another. And like Tyrion, and perhaps her father, she too opted to ignore reality in its face. At least in public. In private, she left no chance to provoke the twins for their misdeeds. And gloat over the fact that neither could deny her sly taunts.

Ignoring her comment with a roll of his eyes, Jaime tried to turn the tables on her.

"So, what have you been up to while I've been gone, my dearest sister?"

"I doubt you need an answer to that. The _Queen_ most probably grumbled out something to you already..."

"Ireyne -"

"- Never mind.", Ireyne cut him off. She was certain Cersei would've complained about something to Jaime regarding her. Cersei hated her, Ireyne knew as much. She didn't know why but she knew that her sister despised her. And there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Is everything okay here? You seem very... different somehow." Jaime stated. Ireyne's breath hitched at his words, her mind and senses going numb as she wondered if she could tell Jaime of what happened in the woods. She wasn't sure if she should. He'd be angry at her for being so reckless. And what about Jon? Would he be blamed somehow? He was already hurt because of her. Would Jaime chastise her for going and helping Jon?

And just like that, the very thought of Jon warmed up Ireyne's insides again, melting the ice that surrounded her thoughts and enabling her to breathe again. She could see him in her mind's eye: his curly hair; his stormy eyes; the tiny uplift of his plump mouth; the wide, surprised expression he wore around her; the hunch of his shoulders; the brown leather of his jerkin; the scent of pine trees that seemed to follow him; his warm, callused hands...

"I'm fine, the very same.", the blonde spoke, her voice breathless and her mind buzzing.

"If there is anything you'd like to tell me, you know you can, right?" He looked genuinely concerned and looking into his face, Ireyne belatedly realized that he hadn't believed a word she'd said before - he knew she was hiding something from him. But now was not the time; Ireyne wasn't ready to talk to anyone about Jon or anything else. So she smiled warmly and sat beside her brother holding his hand.

"I know. And I'm fine, truly. I just slept late last night and woke up very early today. You know how cranky I get when I don't sleep properly."

Jaime studied her a beat longer, before letting out a soft sigh, "That, I know very well" he smirked slightly before getting up and announcing that he'd see her at breakfast. Bopping his baby sister on the nose, Jaime Lannister swiftly crossed the room and let the door shut loudly behind him. The moment he left, Ireyne fell back on her bed and rubbed her temples, trying to soothe her aching head.

Oh dear Gods, what was happening to her...

* * *

 **—** **End Notes —**

I hope the chapters seem a little longer to you guys and that you like it! Don't forget to leave a review if you liked reading this chapter. It motivates writers to know that the readers are enjoying their work.

So please, let me know how I'm doing, and what I can do to improve my work? I only want to put out good writing out here for you guys. :)

Also, is there a way to reply to reviews publicly without sending private messages/writing replies in chapter ends? I'm new to fanfic and still confused by this format...

* * *

 **— Review Replies —**

 **bellaphant** said: _"Another new chapter! You are on fire. I'm glad that Jon was able to come Ireyne's rescue and that she then came to his. I look forward to reading about what happens next"_

— I just think its super cliche to have a guy save a girl, so I thought it would be a good idea to have a girl save the guy for once. That being said, those wildlings are powerful enough that Ireyne cannot possibly fight them herself. So teamwork happened in chapter 6! Aaaand I can't wait to tell you how things go further for Jon and Ireyne ;) Also, I hope the chapters seem a little longer to you know... I tried adding in more detail. Tell me how you feel about it.

 **DarkFriday1408** said: " _Hey there,_ _Interesting story. I'm very curious to see what will happen next and how will the relationship between Jon and Ireyne develop and if they will manage to end up together._ _Out of curiosity, will Jon join the Night's Watch in this story or will he travel south with Ned? Or maybe remain in Winterfell with Robb?_ _Good luck and happy writing."_

 _—_ Thank you for such a nice message! I swear reviews like these make me want to keep writing :) Now, as for Jon and Ireyne's relationship... The next few chapters should, theoretically, clear up any doubts about their relationship and how they view it themselves. And I don't want to spoil much, but Jon is going to the Wall; I'm kind of rewriting the GoT show proceedings with Ireyne in it, there will be stuff different though. You'll have to read on. Thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter as well!


	10. Almost Paradise

**_"God is such a cruel god —_**

 ** _for making you so wonderful,_**

 ** _and for making me so weak."_**

* * *

Ireyne had two main problems: brunettes and rickety chairs — they were both exceedingly infuriating and a bane to her existence.

When she'd come down to break her fast that morning, Ireyne was in a jubilant mood even if her day had started a little shakily because of Cersei. Her sister had appeared at her door early morning, demanding to know why Ireyne had been avoiding all routinely activities. Ireyne would usually deny such claims but this time around, Cersei was right. It was true, Ireyne had been avoiding her tasks of going to the Godswood with Catelyn Stark, attending sewing classes with Sansa and Arya, and even making small talk with Robb. Instead, these days, Ireyne spent her time daydreaming - her thoughts far away from her surroundings, her mind racing as she thought of her next move.

But even if the day had started on a rather sour note, somehow her mood had lifted as she weaved her way through the stone walls of Winterfell, inhaling the scent of pine and fresh baked bread. The cold winds still turned her nose pink, but they helped calm her overheated skin. Ireyne thought she liked Winterfell - it was so different from where she belonged to; Winterfell was so cold on the outside but equally warm on the inside.

Ireyne walked past dozens of people, smiling at them disarmingly; she hoped to seek Jon. While organizing her things today, Vaera - her handmaiden - had stumbled across a heavy, black fur cloak. It belatedly hit Ireyne that she had not yet returned the fur cloak he'd given her to wear on their way back from the woods the other day. Returning it would be a nice way to talk to Jon again.

The golden-haired girl subconsciously acknowledged the fact that she had been spending increasingly large amounts of time conjuring up creative excuses to be around Jon - he was nice and all, but he was still a bastard, and therefore she still needed a solid reason to approach him. As she walked around, her dark purple dress whipping around her legs, Ireyne unconsciously smoothened her hair, _again_. Her heart was thumping wildly; her hands were fidgeting and her chest was heaving lightly. She was nervous, and she did not know why she was behaving this way. As she found her way to the main courtyard, a nervous smile appeared on Ireyne's face at the sight of Jon - he was standing with his back to her, talking to the blacksmith animatedly. Her eyes took in his form, her heart warming at the view. His back was hunched over something out of her sight. He was chatting and laughing, appearing so free and so lively.

Ireyne was half-hidden in the shadow of the dark hall and was about to go forth and call his name when -

"Jon! Can you help me with this load of grain?", a voice echoed around the courtyard, not that anyone noticed it except Jon himself. Ireyne searched for the source of it until her eyes landed on a petite, brown haired girl sitting on a step on the side. Ireyne knew that that was the kennel-master's daughter, Layla - she had helped Ireyne find the library during the first week of her stay here.

As Jon made his way towards the pretty girl, Ireyne couldn't help but feel slightly aggravated at the scene unfolding before her eyes: Layla said something to Jon, smiling shyly, batting her eyelashes a little, and pouting as she played with her brown hair, smoothening it with her hands and tucking it behind her ear.

Ireyne scoffed internally. Jon was definitely attractive - only a fool would deny that. And the girl, Layla, was obviously so smitten with him. Ireyne shook her head at the ridiculousness and was about to call out to Jon again when he turned around himself. Yet he didn't see her. He was still talking to Layla - and smiling widely. Ireyne felt a sharp pang in her chest at the scene unfolding before her. She didn't think Layla was the type of girl whom Jon would fall for. That girl was far too quiet and shy. Won't the two of them together be awfully silent always?

 _Perhaps that's why they suit each other_ , Ireyne wondered wildly. To make matters even worse, Jon reached out a hand to help Layla to her feet. He didn't let go of her hand the moment she got back on her feet. He held hers for a second or two more.

And all of a sudden, Ireyne was transported back to when he'd held her own hands in his warm ones - the firm grip he had, the rough, very male textured skin of his palm, the elegant fingers that had entwined with her delicate ones...

And just as suddenly, Ireyne's glowering emotions got the best of her, for she irritably turned around - her shoulders taut with tension and her head held high, a haughty expression on her heart-shaped face - and stalked back into the Great Hall where she knew Tyrion was waiting for her to arrive.

* * *

"Ah, my favorite sibling! My gorgeous sister!" Tyrion exclaimed upon seeing his younger sister storm into the nearly empty Hall, raising his cup of wine in a mock toast. "And what exactly are you fuming for?"

"No reason."

"'No reason'?" her brother raised his brows, "I believe that's not the correct answer Ireyne. Try again, why don't you."

"I'd rather not play your little games right now." Ireyne muttered gravely, grabbing the goblet full of wine from Tyrion and draining half of it in one gulp.

The action did not go unnoticed by her brother. She wasn't much of a drinker and certainly not one to ever gulp wine like she just did. It only added to Tyrion's suspicions. He - like Jaime - had recognized Ireyne's odd behavior over the past few days. After careful scrutiny, he'd noticed a drastic change in her moods - she was exuberant and talkative one moment, then sullen and vexed enough to rival Cersei's own, constantly sour expressions, in the next minute.

Ireyne was also eating much less these past few days, opting to play around with her food at most meal times. She was also - Tyrion knew this for a fact - not sleeping adequately, often spending the better part of the night staying awake and reading by the fire. Or so she said. Tyrion knew his sister had a slight affinity for books - it didn't take her longer than a handful of hours to go through one. Yet she had been reading the same book for days now - he saw the same brown leather bound, ratty old book with silver letters on its spine, clutched in her hands at all times. She was distracted, her mind elsewhere, unfocused, that much was clear. It wasn't like Ireyne to be so forgetful or uninterested in life. This dissimilar behavior of hers was worrisome for both the Lannister brothers. And Tyrion had made up his mind to get to the truth of this oddness.

"Ireyne. I've noticed you being -" Tyrion started to speak but couldn't get more than a few words out of his mouth before being cut off.

"- Spare me Tyrion. I beg of you. All is well and good." Ireyne stated rather tersely, not being able to stop herself from adding, "More than good for some people it seems... "

"Really? And who is this charming soul who seems to enjoy the goodness of life while the rest of us are so dejected by it?"

"No one. No one who matters anyway..." Ireyne muttered, tired with this conversation already.

Deciding she needed to be alone for some time, Ireyne spoke up in a flat tone, "I'm going outside for a while. Please do not follow or ask anyone to follow."

"Outside? Where? Surely you can't be thinking of heading outside Winterfell by yourself..."

"No. I'm going to go to... the Godswood. That's where I'll be."

"I didn't know you prayed."

"I don't. It's just quiet there; no one disturbs me. And I need peace so..."

* * *

The Godswood was a place of wonder, if you ever sat and looked around it. It was a place of beauty and serenity; silent and tranquil. The forest was vast, wet, and diverse. Its canopy marked by ash, hawthorn, and redwood; enough sunlight shimmered through their crowns for disorderly sprouts to spread in the nut and seed covered grounds below. Quiet vines embraced most trees, and an array of flowers, which were scattered sporadically, were a welcome change in the otherwise green scenery.

A medley of soft sounds, which were mainly caused by birds, echoed in the air, and almost completely muffled the gentle cries of the water that splashed around in the small river that ran through the forest.

Ireyne found a small boulder to sit on near the river bank. She smelled the earthy, clear air that surrounded her; it helped clearing her mind and calming her down infinitesimally. Strangely enough, being finally alone and away from prying eyes, Ireyne felt herself choke up, her throat tightening and making it impossible to swallow the lump that seemed embedded in her throat now. She felt hot tears prick her eyes, obscuring her vision, forcing the sharp scenery of the Godswood to become a blur of vibrant colors - not that they had helped in any way to brighten the darkness that clutched at her heart in the first place.

Ireyne comprehended her reactions; she knew she was acting foolishly. Just because, for the first time, a handsome young man did not seem to show an equal amount of interest in her, did not mean she had to act like a stupid little girl. Yet the lack of attention, or diversion of attention to be fair, was affecting Ireyne far worse than it ever did before. She wanted to go home now; she wanted to run away from this place, this cold, harsh, foreign land. Everything was so much easier in King's Landing for everything was always under her control. Here, nothing was in her grasp. Ireyne thought she hated this place, she hated this castle, she hated these people, she hated Jon; she hated herself for knowing that she was lying to herself by thinking all this. _Perhaps that is the problem_ , Ireyne concluded, _that everything here was far too nice - the people, the place, the atmosphere - it was all much too good for me to survive in_. She wasn't used to all this pleasantness.

"Ireyne?" a deep, raspy voice sounded from behind her. She could recognize that voice amongst a thousand others now - she didn't know how she knew it, but Ireyne knew it to be true. She hadn't expected anyone to be in here at this hour though. Everyone was usually busy with their routinely chores right now. So it came as a surprise to Ireyne when she heard his voice amongst the silence of the woods.

Hastily wiping her stupid stray tears, Ireyne cursed the Gods for disrupting her moment of peace before turning around to face the very cause of her torment.

"Jon."

"I didn't think I'd see you here."

"Well, here I am. _Surprise_!" Ireyne responded, her voice weighed down with sarcasm. She pretended to not notice the confused, hurt expression on Jon's face.

"I was here to pray when I saw you sitting here. I thought I'd..." Jon didn't know what to say to her. He'd come to the Godswood to pray as he hadn't been able to earlier in the day. He had only caught a glimpse of her, sitting near the lake, as he was walking by when his brain decided that it was imperative to talk to her and caused his legs to put one foot in front of the other, repeatedly. He didn't understand what it was about her that plagued his thoughts endlessly. Day by day, Jon found himself becoming increasingly distracted by the thoughts of the golden-haired beauty. Just the other day, he'd nearly taken a massive blow while sparring with Robb. Only, his brother had remembered that Jon was bruised badly, so he wasn't aiming too harshly in the first place.

"You thought what?" Ireyne spoke up again, her mouth upturned in a teasing smirk yet her blue eyes burned like vicious blue flames. Jon thought she could kill with just her eyes; he vaguely registered that he would be happy enough to die if it was her he saw last. "Did you see another girl and decide you needed another one to entertain you?"

Jon became increasingly confused by each passing word, "What do you mean? I'd never -"

"Oh, I saw you and your pretty girl this morning Jon Snow," Ireyne cut his explanation off, continuing to smile in order to disguise her true emotions. "Layla? Isn't that her name? You looked smitten..."

Jon turned pink at her words, and not because she had caught him - she hadn't; she was so desperately mistaken. "Layla? What? I - when did you see me with her?"

"This morning. She so sweetly asked you to help her with a... 'load of grain', right?"

"Right. She did." Jon agreed, "But I don't - she and I, we aren't..."

"Hmm?"

"She is like my sister. I grew up with her, known her since she was a babe. I never... I don't know why you even thought..." Jon trailed off, knowing he was doing a terrible job at clarifying his stance.

And while Jon pondered over his lack of way with words, he completely missed the joyful expression on Ireyne's face. Her world was suddenly bright again - the dark clouds had now parted to fill her up with sunshine and warmth. An immeasurable amount of relief, tinged with disbelief at her own self, seeped through Ireyne's blood. Every hair, every nerve felt free and giddy. She wanted to apologize to him, say something nice, make his confused expression fly away.

"Meet me in the Glass Gardens tonight? Halfway through supper, if that's okay with you?" Ireyne blurted out - unsure as to what devil possessed her to say so. This was not what she had in mind.

"Okay." Jon hurriedly agreed not wanting to upset her, before hesitantly asking, "Uh, why? I mean, I don't mind but I was wondering why you..."

Ireyne's mind was racing, faster and faster, even faster, to come up with an excuse for what she had just asked. _This is why you always think before you speak Ireyne Lannister_ , she groaned inwardly, _Why do I always end up saying such things around him?._ Ireyne racked her brains to come up with a suitable excuse, suddenly remembering the perfect one.

"Your cloak!" she exclaimed, thanking the heavens for remembering that damned coat - the one that had started this all. "I still have your cloak and I wanted to return it? I thought it would look suspicious if I gave it back to you in broad daylight. Too many eyes around, you see."

"I agree." Jon stared at her, trying to formulate his words correctly which was an excruciating task right now, considering she was smiling at him widely, those heartwarming dimples peeking again. _We're set to meet tonight at the Gardens then... God, she's incredible,_ Jon thought to himself silently as he watched her mouth move and say something about going back inside and supper and her brother. Jon paid little heed to what she said though, his mind was distracted by her cheerful face. She was so bright, so bright that she lightened up every nerve in his body. Jon couldn't name this feeling that he felt for her, but as he watched her retreating form navigate its way back through the Godswood and into the main castle, Jon knew he was already counting down the minutes until he'd get to see Ireyne again.

* * *

In complete honesty, Ireyne hadn't thought much about the concept of the Glass Gardens when she had first hear it. But after visiting it once, it had dawned on her that this wasn't a place like any other. Ireyne had never seen the likes of it. Granted, they would be utterly useless down South, considering the temperatures were more moderate there, allowing people in the other regions of Westeros to grow their food in the open air. And yet Ireyne was still mystified by the elegance and practicality of the place. It was made entirely of strong, sturdy, shiny glass; huge arches filled the ceiling. Looking around, Ireyne noticed the plethora of plants that grew in there, lined in orderly rows, and kept warm by abundant fires burning around them. Neat pots of clay held green plants of variety, laden with ripe and unripe fruits and vegetables alike. There was everything, from fruits like apples, melons, and berries, to vegetables such as tomatoes, carrots, peas, and potatoes; even herbs like mint and thyme and rosemary, as well as peppers littered one corner of the gigantic glass structure.

Ireyne had managed to slip away from supper easily enough. The King was getting drunk again; Ned Stark and his wife were stressed to their bone; Cersei was glowering at everyone; Jaime and Tyrion were busy talking to one another. Ireyne could barely recall the lame excuse she had made - it did not matter anyway.

Inside the greenhouse, she'd found a rickety old bench in one corner near a fireplace. Deciding that it was warm enough - and concealed enough - in this corner, Ireyne had decided to gingerly perch herself upon the shaky bench, hearing it squeak a little under her weight. The fur cloak was clutched tightly in her hands as she traced her fingers over the soft material. Raising it up slightly, Ireyne breathed in the scent of the worn cloak - it smelled like pine and spruce, faintly sweaty but clean nonetheless. She could also detect the subtle hints of jasmine on it now; she had worn it for quite a few hours, if she remembered correctly. Sighing heavily, she prayed Jon would get there soon enough.

A few minutes passed and Ireyne was beginning to worry if Jon had changed his mind when she heard heavy footfalls echoing around the Glass Garden.

"Uh... Is anyone here?" a deep voice sounded.

"I'm in the back-corner Jon, near the... uh... rosemary bushes!" Ireyne spoke, her voice louder than usual.

A few short beats later, Jon appeared from behind the nearby plants, dressed in his usual attire: a fairly long sleeved, brown leather jerkin that covered him to his waist and is laced up completely at the front side. The sleeves of his jacket are narrow and reach down to just above his hands, simple and functional. His white undershirt peeked out from underneath his jerkin, visible around his neck.

Ireyne self-consciously smoothened out invisible wrinkles from her own dress. She'd worn a deep maroon one tonight - she did know she looked best in it; she did _not_ know why she was making all this effort. Regardless, the maroon dress flowed from top to bottom and had a round neckline, which gracefully revealed her slender neck and pale skin. The flow of her dress is broken up by a dark patterned cloth band that was worn quite high around her waist. Below the cloth band, the dress opened to reveal the pale beige, chiffon slip below. The flow and cuts of the dress accentuated every curve of hers in a delightful, yet subtle manner.

Ireyne registered the fact that Jon's eyes ran up and down her body twice before meeting her eyes. He turned pink at being caught and looked away, coughing slightly to hide his embarrassment.

"I didn't think you would come." Ireyne softly spoke.

"Didn't think you would be here even if I did." Jon smiled back, his voice light and relaxed.

"Sit." Ireyne gestured towards the small bench in the Glass Garden. Jon eyed it suspiciously before slowly sitting down next to her. The bench squeaked louder now that it supported two weights instead of one.

"Here," Ireyne held out the cloak she was holding. "Thank you for lending it. I apologize for returning it so late..."

"It's no problem. Thank you," Jon took the heavy cloak from her, his fingertips accidentally touching Ireyne's. But he didn't remove them immediately. He let his hand linger there, trying to feel the softness of her skin. Slowly, almost lethargically, Jon drew his hand away. The two sat silently, hearing a distant boom of laughter every now and then.

Ireyne suspected she would have to break the silence eventually. They couldn't sit like this forever. But she had no coherent thoughts beyond that; she felt oddly unnerved as she sat beside Jon, her hands fidgeting and leg bopping up and down as her and Jon both stared at the small fire burning.

And then Jon broke the silence.

"I told my father about the wildlings in the woods."

The air stood still. Ireyne froze in her place, staring at Jon's profile with wide eyes. She had wanted him to say something, but she had not wanted to hear _this_... She wanted to keep the incident a secret; it happened, and it was over. _Why must Jon tell Ned Stark? Why couldn't they just move on?_

"Jon-"

"I didn't tell him you were there.", Jon stated calmly. When Ireyne did nothing but continue staring at him with her bulging blue eyes, he explained, "I told him I was wandering through the woods when a couple of wildlings caught me. I told him I fought one and Ghost bit the others, so they ran away. Father doesn't know you were there."

"Why didn't you tell him about me?"

"People would talk. And you said you didn't want to tell anyone. My father just needed to know that the wildlings were so near to our home. He doesn't need to know who exactly ran into them..."

The weight of his lies did not go unnoticed by Ireyne. "But he'd have been furious at you! He-"

"He didn't say anything. I told him I went in after Ghost - to get him back when he ran away. That's all. And Father didn't react as badly." Jon clarified, adding on "he's been worried lately, so I suppose that's why he isn't yelling at me now."

It took her sometime to digest this news; eventually, Ireyne hesitantly smiled, trying to show her gratitude. Jon had not told anyone. No one else would ever know of what had truly ensued in the woods - of how she had killed a man, most likely two - it was self defense and a necessary one at that. But that still didn't lessen the burden on her own conscience.

" I'm sorry." Jon muttered quietly, his voice barely heard by Ireyne.

" Whatever for?" Ireyne questioned him, thoroughly confused by his sudden apology.

"For the time I yelled at you in the Godswood? I-"

"-I attacked your direwolf and berated the North! I'm-"

"- Just listen to me, please?" Jon waited for her to nod her approval before he continued. "I criticized your family. I said things that weren't exactly right - I was rude and... I didn't mean to say stuff like that. It's just - we - I mean, Lannister's have a reputation here," Jon hesitantly phrased his words, trying to decipher Ireyne's blank face.

When she remained silent, he prayed to the Gods for his safety as he continued explaining himself: "I only thought you might perhaps be behaving like that out of spite - or something, I don't know! It's what I grew up hearing. I didn't think properly, I was wrong. I just... I know that I was wrong in my assumptions about you and I'm sorry for making such hasty judgements on your part."

Ireyne's silence was deafening to Jon's ears. She stared at him blankly, expressionlessly. Still and unmoving, her stance worried Jon immeasurably. He waited for the oncoming slap that he was sure he was going to receive.

Instead, Ireyne suddenly snorted loudly before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh, seven hells Jon, you should have seen your face!" Ireyne wiped the tears from her eyes that had appeared because she was laughing so hard. Jon felt his face grow hot at her reaction. He tried to be serious and apologetic; out of all the reactions he had expected witnessing, this was not it. Why was she _laughing_?

"Huh?" was the only reply Jon could manage. He couldn't properly form words at the moment.

Gathering herself, Ireyne cleared her throat twice before looking him in the eye. "God, I know what people think of Lannister's, alright? You are not the first to judge me by my family name. And honestly, there is no smoke without a fire behind it. And hence there is no rumor without a truth behind it. I understand you didn't mean to say all those things".

Jon's expression was still anxious though; his face twisted in worry. His brows drawn together tightly. She felt bad for making him anxious; he was only being nice. And now she had perplexed him, made him uncomfortable. With a fierce desperation, she now yearned to ease his worry and comfort him. In retrospect, Ireyne didn't know what force had caused her to do so, but before she knew it, Ireyne had raised her hand to smoothen the lines on his forehead. He stilled unnaturally at her touch; Ireyne felt her face grow warm at the contact. As she rubbed the lines away, his face relaxed as did his tensed body.

"There's nothing to forgive, Jon Snow." Ireyne murmured softly, her voice slightly raspy and breathless. "What's done is done. It's best to forgive, forget, and move on. Hmm?"

"Hmm." Jon grunted and slowly nodded his head in agreement. His eyes were switching between gazing at her blue eyes and her pink lips. He vaguely wondered, not for the first time, if she could hear his heart pound in his chest? Could she tell his heart was racing faster than a horse? Did she know the thoughts that were plaguing his mind right now?

Jon could barely breathe. Ireyne was so close to him - he could smell that jasmine scent on her. Her eyes were blinking rather rapidly, her breath coming out in short pants. He could almost smell the honeyed wine that she must've had at the feast tonight. Jon wondered if he himself was acting in the same manner.

He was close, so very close. Ireyne could almost feel his warm breath on her face. If she leaned in just a little more, his lips would be within close vicinity of her own. And then she could perhaps taste him, know if he was as sweet as he appeared. She leaned in closer, her head tipping up slightly.

"We shouldn't" Jon whispered, his voice hoarse and shaky even as he leaned in towards her.

"Of course, we shouldn't." Ireyne calmly agreed to his words, yet her brows were lifted in a silent challenge. Of course, they shouldn't do what they were thinking of, but that didn't mean they wouldn't, right?

She leaned in closer now, her forehead resting against his. His hands had taken ahold of hers, holding them firmly, enclosing them in his warm ones. His dark grey eyes were locked on her bright blue ones, both hesitant to move an inch; they were both unsure of what was happening yet reluctant to stop the whirlwind of emotions they found themselves caught up in.

Ireyne heard Jon sigh softly. He glanced at her lips once more before his eyes fluttered shut. _He's got fucking long and beautiful eyelashes_ , a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Not that Ireyne payed it any attention, for she too allowed her eyelids to drop.

Jon's breathing had halted completely as he braced himself for the feel of her lips against his. Ireyne's lips parted slightly as her heart sped up in anticipation of what Jon would feel like. They could feel each other's shallow breaths on their faces; both leaning in blindly towards each other - chasing the curiosity, chasing the pleasure they were sure to feel, the satisfaction...

"Aah!"

"Ouch!"

A loud crash sounded through the Glass Gardens. In their haste to kiss one another, the two youngsters forgot that they were sitting on a rocky bench that seemed to choose the very moment to give out, sending both Jon and Ireyne crashing to the floor.

Ireyne felt a dull, throbbing pain in her right elbow and both her knees, clearly hurt from the impact of falling down on the concrete floor; as she rubbed small circles on her knees, she noticed Jon massaging his lower back and head. The two sat awkwardly on the floor for a few moments, embarrassed at their unfortunate situation, nursing the shallow bruises. The magic of the moment perished steadily, leaving behind an abyss of uncertainty; with the spell broken, the two came to their senses rather quickly.

Jon haphazardly pushed himself back to his feet and extended a somewhat trembling hand towards Ireyne. Smiling slightly, she shook her head at his cavalier attitude, opting to push herself upright again. The rough concrete felt scratchy against Ireyne's palm as she hoisted herself back to her feet as confidently as she could muster at the given moment, albeit still coming off as a little unsteady.

The air then quickly became thick with awkwardness. Ireyne could taste the bitter taste of embarrassment in her mouth, choking her. She supposed she should say something - yet for the first time in her life, words completely escaped her, physically and mentally. She stood blankly, not a single coherent thought in her unusually silent mind. She was good at handling awkward situation - she was excellent at manipulating situations according to her own need.

Yet here and now, in front of Jon, with the recognition of what she - and Jon too, apparently - had desired just a few moments past looming over her, Ireyne couldn't manage the otherwise simple task.

"We're both really good at humiliating ourselves, eh?" Jon finally uttered, staring decidedly at the ground.

Ireyne let out a soft snort at that. "Well, at least we're good at something together."

"We'd be good at other things together..." Jon said before realizing how inappropriate it sounded.

"Oh really, Jon Snow?" Ireyne quipped, her voice suddenly perking up and gaining its usual confidence back. She began smirking now. "Is it decent to propose such indecent ideas to a lady then?"

"No! I - i-it sounded - I d-didn't mean -" Jon stuttered, clearly flustered by his own words and hers alike.

"- Perhaps we should get back inside? Sounds like a better proposal?" Ireyne interrupted him, taking pity at his ever-reddening face.

"...Huh? We... yes. Yes! We should get back... inside. Inside." Jon seemed to take a minute trying to wrap his head around everything while Ireyne patiently waited on the side, looking at anything but him and smiling to herself. _He really does look adorable like that, all confused and dumbfounded_ , Ireyne thought to herself, biting her lip hard.

* * *

Jon and Ireyne strolled along underneath the eerily inky black sky that was freckled only by the fewest of stars. The occasional crunch of leaves was the only sound to permeate the silence that had befallen the two young souls - if one did not count the unceasing boisterous laughter and the accompanying audacious chorus of clanging cutlery intermingled with the music that had been playing for hours now.

As the unlikely pair continued walking back from the Glass Gardens, a foot worth of space separated them. Yet Ireyne barely sensed it as such. For her, he was close enough to still feel his soft sighs on her face, to feel the warmth radiating off his body, to feel the slight tremble of his hands as they held her own shaking ones.

They barely talked. This didn't surprise her for Jon was a notoriously quiet person. She remembered asking Arya Stark the other day about whether he was always this quiet or was it just with new people that he behaved like this. She'd replied with a short 'Jon is Jon, he's always like that'. But Ireyne found herself liking his silence - it had a strangely calm effect on her; her blood wasn't boiling or chilling anymore - it was flowing gently, warming her insides slowly, making her lightheaded.

Ireyne still didn't know what it was about Jon that affected her so much. Why did thoughts of him keep her awake at night? Why was the sight of his face enough to brighten her day? Why was being around him the most exhilarating experience ever when he seldom did anything that was out of ordinary?

The mysteries of Winterfell were lost upon Ireyne, who pondered over her own jumbled thoughts as she walked beside Jon.

"I should go, Ireyne." Jon's voice broke through her thoughts. "You probably need to go back inside?"

"I suppose so. I'll show my face for a minute and go back to my chambers as soon as I can..." Ireyne replied, her voice soft and sweet.

Jon smiled at her words, "Good luck with the 'soon' bit,"

Ireyne couldn't help but snort at that. He was right, there was no way she'd escape the hellhole that were the King's merriments. She was about to say something else, tell Jon to see her tomorrow, when Tyrion's voice boomed from behind them. Peering over her shoulder, Ireyne saw the short form of her brother appear from behind the shadows in the corner, whistling to himself.

"Ireyne, and the bastard of Winterfell. What a strange sight."

"Not the strangest you've ever seen, I bet." Ireyne spoke.

"No! Definitely not. This sight does not compare to seeing you in the early hours of morning..." Tyrion trailed off, smirking a devilish smile as he took a huge swig from the cup of wine clutched in his hands.

Ireyne glared at her bother for a moment, resolutely ignoring the snort that had sounded from Jon at Tyrion's words. He'd tried to cover it up by coughing but Ireyne wasn't one to be fooled by such antics.

"What do you want?"

"I wish to speak to you." Tyrion replied, glancing in Jon's direction. "Privately, please".

Before Ireyne could either protest the idea or excuse herself from Jon's company, Jon had spoken up.

"If I may, My Lord, My Lady, I beg your leave." he nodded his head in their direction, before swiftly turning around.

Ireyne watched his retreating form, a gloominess filling her heart. She had hoped to not say farewell just yet. Tonight, had been good - in ways she hadn't imagined. Ireyne had only hoped for it to last longer. Alas, her kin had other ideas it seemed.

Unbeknownst to Ireyne, Tyrion had been noticing her reactions since he saw the two walk in at the gates. She had walked in wearing the brightest smile he'd seen on her face in a while. When Jon said something to her, she smiled even more, if possible. Tyrion had noticed her tucking her hair behind an ear as she spoke to the bastard, her hands fidgeting whilst they stood in the courtyard. Even now, Tyrion observed the way her expression slightly fell as Jon walked away; he noticed how his sister's gaze followed Jon's retreating form for far longer than was necessary. And when she turned back to him, Tyrion looked into her eyes and saw the diminished spark in them - she looked more like what she mostly did nowadays whenever he saw her.

He was a smart man - Tyrion Lannister; he was arguably, smarter than almost all other men in Westeros, capable of comprehending situations well and judging other people's emotions and thoughts even better. And if anything, he now had a very good idea of what was ailing his darling sister these days.

"What is it you wanted to speak about?" Ireyne's voice was clipped and taut, unsurprisingly.

"I only wanted to let you know that Ned Stark has agreed to serve as Hand of the King. You weren't at supper; I thought it best for you to know about this important development." Tyrion spoke evenly, gauging her reaction. Ireyne stayed silent for a moment. Ned Stark agreeing to move South was a huge ordeal. She didn't know if it was for the best or the worst. He didn't seem like someone who was meant to be in the Capital - Ned was far too honorable and honest to survive well there.

"Well, life will certainly be interesting at the Red Keep once we get back, won't it?" Ireyne stated calmly. Get back... she had to go back. The thought had slipped from her mind completely in these past few days. She had been distracted beyond measure.

"I suppose it will." Tyrion was staring at her in a manner that made Ireyne very uncomfortable. He was giving her that look of his that seemed to read through her very soul and gain knowledge of her deep, dark secrets. Shaking her head, Ireyne began to make her way back to the Great Hall when Tyrion spoke again, this time, in a gentler tone as though he were afraid to upset her; as though he was trying to explain something to a child about a certain a object he or she could not have.

But his tone wasn't what stunted Ireyne's mind or made her footsteps falter and her eyes bulge out. No. It was the words that he had uttered which rendered Ireyne numb to her very core:

"Do our family a favor, dearest sister, and do not fall in love with a bastard boy."

* * *

— ( **End Notes** ) —

These chapters are getting longer and longer... Hope you all liked reading it though!

* * *

— ( **Review Responses** ) —

A **Guest** said: " _I usually avoid OC stories because I prefer reading about canon established characters. I also consider Jonerys the greatest thing since the invention of chocolate cake. The story is well written but I'm not a fan of Ireyne yet. She is way to much a Lannister for me to rationalize her ending up with our lord and savior Jon freaking Snow. I'm excited to see if you can change my mind about her. Future events and how Ireyne reacts to them will tell me if she is even a descent human being"_

 _—_ First off: thank you for reading my work! If you don't usually read OC's but still read mine, I can't thank you enough. I understand that you don't like her yet, and that's a nice review tbh! This story is only starting out so you'll get to see her evolve, I hope. As for her seeming too Lannister-ish, well, she is a Lannister. I'm going to mention an A/N later and expand on this factor later, so hopefully that'll clear your views :)

 **UmiNight Angel Neko** said: " _I love this slow build to their relationship you can see the teen confusion but respect they share and i love how she is like a lannister... But more of the good they can have... Like tyrion! Now her sass just need to be as gaod and well have the best sass duo ever"_

 _—_ That's so nice of you to say! I didn't want to have them fall in love so fast in like two chapter because that's really unrealistic. And I wanted them to first realize that they respect each other more than plain love. I think its more important. So, I am very very glad that you like this slow build up too :)

 **Lalagurl010301** said: " _Oml I didn't expect to stumble across this here after wattpad. You're doing great!_ "

— Someone told me I should try posting stuff here, so here I am - haunting you as always haha. Thanks Sana, love you! I am adding more details on here though, kinda like rewriting my fics, so some of the chapters after the 5th, i think, have more paragraphs than on wattpad.

 **bellaphant** said: " _I had a theory for how you were going to further Jon and Ireyne's relationship but now I don't think what I thought was going to happen will happen since I saw that you said that Jon is going to the Wall still. I can't wait to see how you have things pan out. The chapter does seem longer. I can't wait to read more_."

— I am mostly going to stick to the main GoT show events, so that's how its gonna go. But Ireyne's gonna have her own story in here so that's something to look forward to. I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think :)

(p.s: thank you for reviewing my work multiple times, its really nice to read!)


	11. Fading In, Fading Out

_**"It's a lonely thing,  
protecting a breakable heart." **_

**—Atticus**

* * *

A loud, shrill wail carried through the halls of Winterfell, gut wrenching enough to rouse its slumbering inhabitants. Ireyne woke with a start, her heart pounding and vision blurry from sleep. She momentarily cursed whoever had caused her sleep to break; she'd been having the most wonderful dream. After the events of last night in the Glass Gardens - _and the courtyard_ \- Ireyne had trudged her way up to her chambers, seeking some time alone. She'd lied down in her bed without changing into her nightclothes - Septa Greta would've been furious if she was back at the Red Keep right now. But she wasn't, so Ireyne figured it was okay to not change out into her nightgown like a proper _lady_. Honestly, she'd only aimed at lying down, rest a little. But her eyes soon drooped and sleep began clouding Ireyne's mind and bones. And the next thing she knew, Ireyne was being stirred awake by a shrill scream.

"Vaera?", Ireyne called out as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. The room was still mostly dark, the sky outside was tinted with just the faintest of blue. It could not be more than an hour or so before sunrise. The fire in her chambers had dwindled down to a few burning embers that glittered menacingly in the darkness that the four stone walls provided her with. Ireyne vaguely heard soft footfalls heading towards her own chamber.

"My lady!" a voice sounded beyond the closed door. It was only moments before it burst open and her handmaiden rushed in, breathless and scared, holding a chamber-stick in one hand. It illuminated Vaera's face enough for Ireyne to know that the young girl brought no good news. Ireyne felt dread seeping through her bones; something terrible had happened, she could tell.

"What happened? Is everyone okay? Tyrion? Jaime? Myrcella, Tommen? Cersei?" Ireyne inquired.

"They're all alright my lady, it's Bran Stark." Vaera panted, her eyes still wide, "He was found near one of the tall towers. They say he fell from a height,"

Ireyne, she was scared to even admit it, was highly conscious of the wave of relief that surged through her even as she felt her heart sink further. Her family was okay; they were all fine. For one terrible moment, Ireyne had thought something had happened to her own family.

"And the boy? Is he...", Ireyne trailed off, not being able to finish her sentence. The notion of the little soul being snatched away was too cruel for her to say out loud.

"No! Not yet anyway... He's been taken to his chambers and having the maester tend to his wounds. He's lost a lot of blood already. They - they don't think he'll live long." Vaera explained the situation further. Ireyne nodded her head in acknowledgement; what could she say? The boy was young, so very young.

"How do you know all this? And when did this happen?"

"I heard it from one of Lady Stark's handmaidens. I was fetching warm water for your bath when I heard people scrambling about. I saw them carry Bran Stark inside and then heard Lady Stark screamed when she came to see her boy. I came here to tell you." Vaera panted lightly as she bustled around the chamber, reigniting the perishing fire.

 _So that was the noise that roused me from sleep_ , Ireyne mused, feeling lightheaded. She couldn't even begin to comprehend just how terrible Catelyn Stark must be feeling, how terrible it must be to see her son barely hanging on to the thread of life. Ireyne sincerely hoped she would never have to face such a day. She didn't think she could bear such circumstances.

Ireyne's mind wandered off to the rest of the Starks - what must they be going through? Putting herself in their shoes, Ireyne knew she would have been terribly upset at having a family member take such a fall. Just moments ago she had dreaded the safety of her own kin, and felt immense relief at their safety even if it meant someone else's life was on the line. It terrified her to no end.

And Jon - suddenly, Ireyne's mind turned towards Jon as it did most days now. He was very attached to his family, she knew as much, had seen as much. Gods, what must he be going through? And just the thought, the question, was enough to jolt Ireyne's senses into actions for she hurriedly jumped up from her bed and began pacing around her room.

"Vaera! Get my clothes out for the day? I'll just take a few minutes to wash up and then we'll go downstairs alright? And, before you say it, the bath can wait until later" Ireyne instructed her handmaiden. "Fuck, where is that blue dress? Vaera, find me something dark hued to wear today? I don't think I should wear anything bright..."

Vaera, choosing to ignore commenting upon Ireyne's cursing, simply responded with a short, "Yes my lady. I'll get to it."

* * *

Ireyne stood anxiously in front of Bran Stark's chamber door. The golden haired girl was oddly unnerved by the idea of knocking and going in. She had to go in and comfort the boy's parents, she knew as much, but it still seemed like a very daunting task. What did one even say to a mother whose son was, most likely, on the verge of dying? Do you console them? Do you offer condolences? What do you _do_?

Before her mind could unnerve her further, Ireyne raised a fist and rapped lightly on the door thrice. It was a few long moments before Ned Stark - his face equal parts tired and miserable - opened the door slowly. His eyes were sunken, dark shadows coloring underneath the grey eyes. His form was hunched, his posture so unlike the man that had kindly greeted Ireyne when she had arrived here. Ireyne felt her heart swell with sadness and pity.

"Lady Ireyne? Is everything alright?" Ned asked her in a hoarse voice that clearly spoke volumes regarding his grief.

"Lord Stark. I - everything isn't fine, is it? I just - I wanted to come in and see how you and Lady Stark were." Ireyne softly explained. "I was, I am, very sorry to hear of what happened."

Ned nodded his head politely before moving sideways to allow Ireyne inside.

Stepping inside the small, warm chambers, Ireyne noted it was a lot like the chamber Jon lived in. A small fireplace was constructed in one corner, opposite the wall that held a window. There was a small desk beside the window and a closet beside that. The bed was piled with grey and white furs, and underneath those, Ireyne could see the limp, sleeping form of Bran. Catelyn Stark, her hair disheveled and gown crumpled, sat beside him holding his hand and rocking back and forth. Her lips moved yet not a sound was heard; Ireyne figured she must be praying.

"Cat?" Ned spoke lowly, going around and placing a hand on her bony shoulder. "Lady Ireyne is here to see you."

Catelyn seemed to take a few moments to compose herself before she tore her eyes from Bran's still form and looked towards Ireyne with glossy eyes.

"Ireyne."

"Lady Stark. I - I just wanted to see how Bran was doing..." Ireyne muttered, feeling more awkward by each passing second.

"He is... He'll be fine. He has to be." Catelyn spoke in a broken voice.

"Catel-" Ned started before being cut off by Ireyne.

"Of course he will!" Ireyne spoke in the most confident and assuring tone she could muster. "He's a strong boy. He'll be absolutely fine before you know it. I'm sure of it."

Catelyn seemed to smile dolefully at the girl's words. Ireyne knew her faith was of little benefit to the suffering mother; no one knew whether Bran would live. No one could be sure.

"Thank you, Ireyne. I beg you to pray to the Gods for his life." Lady Stark responded before turning her attention back to her unconscious boy. Ireyne took it as a sign for her to leave as well.

* * *

Wandering the deserted stone hallways, Ireyne noticed how utterly silent Winterfell was - far too silent since she had set foot in the castle. The hallways were empty, devoid of any sign of life. The melted wax in the candelabras hung like tears themselves. The chilliness of the wind portrayed the anxiety that hung heavily throughout Winterfell. The castle itself seemed to be praying, it's breath halted, waiting, worrying for the life of its inhabitant.

And since the castle was devoid of any other activity to distract her mind, Ireyne was once again left with her own muddled thoughts and feelings. She was torn between going to see Jon and continuing to ignore him. Ever since Tyrion had spoken to her in the courtyard two days ago, ever since he'd warned her against 'falling in love with a bastard', Ireyne had resolutely avoided Jon. She needed time to figure her own self out. She needed space to think things through and organize her actions. Ireyne wasn't one to make rash, hasty decisions. Everything she did was calculated - weighed by its pros and cons - and this... change of heart, for lack of better term, would be no different.

And yet, Ireyne could still not find her path; she could not figure out what to do.

She supposed she was blind - metaphorically blind; emotionally blind; mentally blind... She had spent days wondering what was happening to her. And Tyrion's words were the only thing that had shown her light in the darkness she had found herself in. The sleeplessness, the lack of appetite, her moodiness, it all made sense. And evidently it made sense to her brother far before it did to her.

 _How could I have been so blind?_ , Ireyne thought despondently. Was this actually love? Was that it? Was that what she felt for him? Was that the reason her mind kept turning to him again and again and again and again and again...?

Of all the games that the fates could have played on her, this was the one they chose. _This_? It was as if the Gods were hellbent on seeing how many paradoxes they could mould in her life.

A bastard. A northern bastard. _Ned Stark's northern bastard_ \- that is who Ireyne had managed to fall for.

She supposed that if anyone - years after her death - ever wrote a book on her, a history about her life, they would call it 'A Paradigm of Predicaments'. That was it. Because that was what her life had become: a predicament that had a certain paradigm to it. _Oh shut up_ , a lazy voice spoke in the back of her mind.

Ireyne knew the consequences of falling in love with a bastard, of anyone below her social status. She knew she would not, ever, be allowed to live here or anywhere really with Jon. She didn't even know if she wanted to live here, in Winterfell, with Jon. She was simply not meant to be with him; he was not meant to be with her. And yet, her heartstrings tugged at the very thought of Jon. The sight of his face in her mind's eye was enough to uplift the worst of her moods; his voice was like the sweetest melody to her ears; his pine fresh scent was better than all the roses Highgarden could ever cultivate.

Ireyne was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely registered where her footsteps were taking her; walking through the halls, she hardly noticed the few scattered souls that walked past her, or the one that crashed into her.

She bumped into something warm, hard, solid. Apologizing profusely, Ireyne looked at the person's face to find herself meeting Jon's eyes. His grey orbs widened in surprise for a moment before he regained composure. Ireyne noted the dark bags under his eyes and the forlorn expression he wore. Her heart fluttered at his sight however, even if he looked miserable and tired. And simultaneously her heart ached for him, seeing him like this.

Tyrion's words floated around her mind though, unceasing, unwavering in their mission to conflict her very being. Ireyne wasn't ready to see him yet, Jon. She needed time to think things through; Ireyne knew she had to run away from here _now_ , lest she ended up saying something she would regret later on.

"Ireyne? I wasn't expecting to see you-" Jon began speaking in his husky voice when Ireyne interrupted him.

"I was out to see Lord Stark. I'm... uh.. I'm sorry about your brother. I can't imagine how you must be feeling." Ireyne spoke softly, albeit hurriedly.

"He'll make it. I know of it. He-"

"Of course he will! Have faith. Umm... I should go, Cersei wanted to see me. I'll see you later, Jon?" Ireyne asked him breathlessly, her mind swimming with dubious thoughts again. She saw Jon's face contort in confusion - _and was that disappointment?_ \- as he nodded solemnly. Ireyne smiled in relief as his head bobbed a little.

"Thank you. Be strong." Ireyne said to him. And for some godforsaken reason, at that very moment - in the chilly hallway with the half melted candles and scattered shadows of inanimate objects - her brain seemed to have completely gone haywire for Ireyne rose up on her toes and kissed Jon's cheek.

 _Kissed_? Ireyne wasn't sure. Her cold lips sort of puckered up and came into contact with Jon's warm skin, staying there for a long moment. Had anyone strolled in and seen the scene in the hallway, they'd have seen Jon standing with his eyes wide open, and Ireyne standing on her toes as her lips remained pressed to Jon's right cheek. Still. Unmoving. Stationary.

Ireyne felt her head spin faster and faster and faster. Her cheeks inflamed at the dawning realization of what she had done, what she was doing. Slowly, as if it caused her physical pain to do so, Ireyne withdrew herself from Jon's skin, planting her feet firmly on the ground once more. She saw the dazed, shocked expression on his face but didn't acknowledge it; she was too caught up in her own shock and daze to think about anything else.

"I beg your leave now, Jon. I'll see you soon, hopefully." Ireyne said evenly, not taking her eyes off his stormy ones. The need to leave became so urgent that Ireyne almost ran from the hallway as she made her way back to her chambers to take that bath she'd needed since the early hours of today. And while a million and one thoughts ran through her head, the most prominent one that kept returning was the same: _Gods, his skin felt so good_.

* * *

"Have you ever been in love, Vaera?" Ireyne asked her handmaiden as she sat in the warm water, letting her skin soak up the comforting warmth.

"My lady?"

"Love. L-O-V-E? The heart's worst disease. Have you ever been in love?" Ireyne muttered as she let her handmaiden wash her hair. Vaera seemed to hesitate a minute, making some choked noises before replying finally.

"Yes, my lady. Once."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What's it like?"

"It's hard to explain..."

"Try, for me."

Vaera was quiet a long moment in which she managed to rinse Ireyne's golden hair free of any soap. Eventually, her handmaiden spoke up again in a low voice:

"I loved a man once, he worked in the kitchens at the Red Keep. You didn't know about him; I didn't want anyone to know. It was my own secret. Being with him was - I can't describe it fully. It was like floating on clouds; flying without wings. He made me happy, very happy; just the sight of him would make my heart sing. When I was with him, the rest of the world ceased to exist. No one and nothing mattered except us. They were the best moments of my life, ones where I could barely breathe but I'd never felt more alive either. Its complicated, I suppose, being in love, experiencing what it is that they write ballads about... I didn't have very long with him though. He was forced to join the Lannister army when yo- when Lord Tywin needed more men. He left and I never saw him again."

Ireyne remained quiet, silently absorbing Vaera's words. Was that what love felt like? Was that it? She heard Vaera walk around and stand before her silently before her face broke out into a wide smirk as she answered Ireyne: "Has someone finally figured out they are in love with a Northerner?"

The question surprised Ireyne, who spluttered a bit before hastily replying: "I am _not_ in love with Jon Snow. I was just-"

"- I didn't say Jon Snow's name, my lady."

Ireyne glowered at Vaera; had everyone figured this out except herself? Was she that oblivious? Was all this that obvious? In the back of her mind, a voice told her to calmly deny the situation, to pass it on, to let go and move on; none of it would matter eventually. But for once, Ireyne didn't want to seek the easy way out. She wanted to learn the truth. The full truth about her emotions. She just had to clear her doubts, had to acknowledge her feelings rightly.

"Is this love then? Is that what I feel for him?" Ireyne quietly spoke. It felt oddly nice to finally confess her deepest thoughts to someone, so she continued talking, ignoring Vaera's wide eyes and gaping expression. "I feel as though he's consumed my entire being. I can't live or breathe for longer than a few minutes without thinking of him. Everything feels so... miserable without him. But when I see him, everything in the world is fine, happy, right. Gods, I just- I don't know what to do."

"If you know you love him, why don't you just tell him."

"Tell him what?" Ireyne knew they wouldn't work out well. "I have to go back to King's Landing. And I doubt he's going to ever come South. We're meant to be doomed. Do I tell him that?"

"Ireyne," Vaera began, her usage of Ireyne's name did not go unnoticed by the youngest Lannister. She was aware that Vaera was now speaking as a friend, not a handmaiden. "You're right. You are going to go back South and you are going to get married to some oaf for the benefit of your family. But here and now, you love a man who loves you back."

"You can't know that." Ireyne interrupted suddenly. She knew she was in love with Jon; that didn't guarantee that he would feel the same way. And even if he had been staring at her every now and then, even if he seemed ready to kiss her that night in the Glass Gardens, it wasn't proof that he loved her. Right?

"So you think he longingly stares at you from across the hall, on the verge of drooling, because he hates you? You're mad if you can't already tell how much he likes you." Vaera snapped. Before Ireyne could utter a single word, Vaera relentlessly plundered on, "Stop being stupid about it. You can't be together forever, I know. But you can be together for a brief time.

Ireyne, love someone. Know what it's like to be in love. Know what it's like to be loved. Enjoy those few moments of magical bliss before you have to face your real life. You'll never marry someone who loves you back, I'll bet my life on it."

Ireyne stayed quiet, absorbing Vaera's words. Would a small fraction of time be enough with him? Or would she crave a forever once she tasted life with Jon? Was any of it worth the risk? Was it even fair to Jon?

"It's not fair though. To him, Jon. To me." Ireyne wondered out loud.

"What?"

"It's not fair," she repeated herself. "I can't play with his emotions only to say goodbye at the end. I can't lose myself to these... these imbecilic emotions."

"Ireyne-"

"No. He's nice. And I can't do this to him because I know I'll end up somewhere unwanted. I can't be that selfish. He has his whole life ahead. He'll... he can fall in love with whomever he wishes; love her and get her love in return for an eternity, if Gods will. He can marry that girl and settle down with her. He can't have that with me. And I can't break his heart because of my selfishness."

* * *

 **—(End Notes)—**

Sorry for a rather filler-like, smaller chapter. Its finals week and I'm struggling to finish all my assignments and shit. I promise you, the next chapter is much longer - and a lot more satisfying 'cause stuff happens ;)

As always, I'd still love to hear your reviews on this chapter. Thank you to whoever reviewed the last chapters, I wanted to reply here but I'm super busy so I couldn't manage answering them yet. But I want you to know that your comments put a smile on my face always! I hope you liked this chapter too and will be kind enough to comment on it too.

Until next chapter, cheers!


	12. Red

**"As he took her hand  
he gave her  
all she had been waiting for —  
a shiver down her spine." **

**—Atticus**

* * *

When Jon was 6, he remembered being summoned to his Father's chambers after dinner once. He'd stood outside, his small feet pacing around the stone floor, his heart racing. _Why has Father called me? Have I done something? Is he going to send me away?_ Terrible thoughts plagued his young mind. The worst one being the thought of being banished from Winterfell.

Eventually, Jon managed knocking on the wooden door twice, hearing his father's soft 'come in,'. His small feet had stepped gingerly into the dark stone solar that was adjoined to his Father's chambers - Jon had rarely visited his father here as Lady Stark preferred not having him in their chambers; she never said no, but her stony expressions usually gave her dislike away.

That evening, beside the gentle fire burning, his father had explained to him why the other older boys called Jon a bastard while sparring, why he wasn't allowed to sit with Robb during feasts, why he must always stand two steps behind the rest of the Starks and so on.

Jon understood; he always understood. _At least his father isn't sending him away!_

And yet, as Jon walked back to his own chambers, changed into his nightclothes, and blew out the candles, settled his small body underneath the warm furs, his mind kept thinking the same thing: _perhaps father should've just sent me away..._

Right now, a much older Jon felt exactly as he had that solemn evening as he paced outside his father's chambers. Why Ned Stark wanted to speak to him was beyond Jon. As far as he knew, he'd done nothing. Hell, no one had been doing anything today since the moment Bran was found unconscious. It was as though the entire world had halted its breath, all waiting for Bran to wake up.

Taking in a shaky breath, Jon rapped on the wooden door twice. Moments later, the oak door swung open to reveal Ned Stark's tired, stooped form. The stress of the past few days had finally caught up with the Lord of Winterfell.

"Jon, come in."

Stepping inside, Jon moved to turn around so as to shut the door behind himself when a voice called out to him,

"Leave it be, I'm on my way out lad."

Jon searched the room for the source of the voice, his eyes landing on Benjen Stark who sat by the fireplace. Jon watched his uncle get up and pat his father on the shoulder once, before walking towards Jon himself.

"Uncle Benjen?"

"Your father wants to talk to you now. I'll catch you later, hmm?" Benjen spoke in a low voice, his eyes searching Jon's, his face oddly blank. Jon nodded in agreement, thoroughly confused by the evening's proceedings so far. Making his way towards the fireplace, Jon carefully sat down in one of the chairs by the fire as Ned took the seat opposite him. The two sat in silence for a long moment. Neither talked, neither moved.

And then Ned spoke.

"Benjen said he wants to take you to the Wall. Said you asked him to."

"I did."

"You know what it means don't you? Taking the Black?"

"I do."

Ned continued staring into the fire, his thoughts far away as he leaned his forearms on his knees. Jon knew his father hadn't simply summoned him to ask him this; there had to be something more, something he wasn't letting on just yet.

"You can join the Night's Watch."

A statement, not a question. Jon realized belatedly that his father was asking him to take the Black. And for one terrible moment, Jon felt as if he was 6 again and his father was banishing him from Winterfell, asking him to leave and never return...

But then Jon came to his senses. He'd asked for this himself; he wanted to go, didn't he? It also didn't escape his notice that his father hadn't said 'if you want'. He'd said 'you can join'. Now. As soon as possible.

Jon knew that this decision was most likely due to the fact that Ned was South-bound, leaving merely a few weeks later. With him gone, Jon would truly have no place at Winterfell. And Lady Catelyn wouldn't want him here either - the unsaid, unspeakable truth hung like a sword upon the father and son. Yet Jon said nothing.

Because Jon understood; he always understood.

* * *

Ireyne sat by the window in her chambers, a glass of mulled wine clutched in her hands as she stared at the inky sky outside. A thousand stars had started twinkling as though someone had lit them on fire. The day had been extremely dull, uneventful - _unless you count that encounter with Jon_ , Ireyne thought to herself bitterly even as a happy blush colored her cheeks. She could almost still feel the warm, stubbly skin of his cheek on her own lips. She didn't know what demon possessed her whenever she was around Jon, she only knew that self-control became harder and harder the more she saw Jon. She wasn't one to lose control; she knew better than that. Her head ached from the exhaustion of thinking about him continuously these past few days. Love, Tyrion said it was love. Was she truly in love? Wasn't one supposed to feel as though they were floating above the clouds when they were in love? Why then was she, Ireyne Lannister, feeling as though she was drowning in an icy river, vicious weeds clutching at her ankles and pulling her in deeper and deeper, suffocating her? Why was she dying with love, instead of living with it?

A growling sound from her stomach broke Ireyne's chain of thoughts. She'd barely eaten any dinner tonight; over the mess of her own feelings, the Stark boy falling, and Tyrion's words to her, Ireyne didn't have much of an appetite these days. But it seemed as if right now, she did. She thought of summoning Vaera and asking her to get something to eat, but that seemed cruel - her handmaiden already worked hard enough, she deserved to sleep now. Ireyne knew she could ask one of the other servants of the Stark household, but the idea of visiting the kitchens herself was oddly appealing to her.

Making up her mind, Ireyne walked over to the oak door, picking her maroon cloak along the way, as she listened for any stray voices outside. Hearing none, she quietly swung open the door, letting it fall shut behind her noiselessly. It was a reckless move, guaranteed, but she had had enough of thinking for a lifetime. Perhaps doing something utterly and ridiculously mad would help?

* * *

She'd never been down to the kitchens before but she vaguely knew where it was located; she'd heard Lady Catelyn point it out once as they walked past it. Ireyne walked swiftly through the castle, weaving her way around the stone halls and stairs. Not a soul was to be seen; everyone seemed to have retired for the night. Evidently, it was far later in the night than Ireyne had anticipated.

It took her a little while but eventually, after she'd walked around nearly half a dozen wrong hallways, she could smell the scent of firewood and roasted meat in one corridor. Quite confident at having found the right hall at last, Ireyne sighed in satisfaction as she breezed past the many paintings that hung here. Finally, _finally_ , she reached the huge double doors that she knew were the entrance to the kitchens.

Pushing open one door slightly, Ireyne slipped inside soundlessly. She quickly surveyed whatever she could see of the kitchen so far to ensure no one else was inside. She even stayed still a minute to listen to any noises that might indicate any other soul in here. Satisfied that she was the only one here, Ireyne shut the door again as she took off her heavy cloak.

The kitchen was spacious and airy. Huge stone columns supported the ceiling from which hung chandeliers with melted wax; a few candles still burned up there, illuminating the kitchen in a soft, dull glow. The fireplace was empty, the charred wall visible clearly. Five tables lined the floor in a neat line; some held cutlery, some held barrels of ale and wine, others were stacked with baskets and wheels of cheese.

Ireyne strolled towards one of the tables nearest to her, observing its contents to find something edible at this hour. Seeing only baskets of raw vegetables on the first one, Ireyne tiptoed to the one on her right, only to see untouched wheels of cheese. The next one held empty dishes and a few baskets of eggs on it. The rest of the tables were cleared away.

Groaning in frustration, Ireyne was about to return to her chambers when -

"Ireyne?"

Dear Gods, she'd recognize that voice anywhere; it had plagued her thoughts only consistently for the past few weeks. Looking around, the golden-haired girl caught sight of a dark silhouette emerging from underneath one of the dark archways on the right side of the kitchen.

"Jon?"

The man in question finally moved into the light. He stood with a slightly gaping expression, clearly surprised at seeing Ireyne down here.

"What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" He inquired, his voice strangely heavy and throaty.

"Everything's fine. I was just... I wanted to see if I could find something to eat at this hour. I couldn't sleep and..." Ireyne trailed off. She eyed Jon carefully, noticing the red rimmed eyes and mussed hair.

"Oh, well, you won't find anything out here." Jon replied. "It's just produce out here. There's bread and meat in the store here." He gestured behind himself, "I can get you something if you like?"

"That would be nice, thank you Jon."

The curly haired man nodded curtly, beckoning her to follow him. Ireyne walked a few steps behind Jon as he led her through the room to the side of the main kitchen. Ireyne realized that there were many other designated areas in this kitchen except the main one. She walked through a room that reeked of raw meat and blood; the next one had several ovens lining the walls - Ireyne assumed this was where they made their bread loaves; the next one was bereft of any long tables or ovens, save for one oak table that stood in the middle - instead, rows of cupboards lined this room, and only one small fireplace was built in the far corner. The windows were all open in here, letting in the chilly air. This was the admittedly the coldest room in the entire kitchen.

"Would you like some bread and cheese? Perhaps some meat along with it? Or fruit? I'll make you a plate. You can sit by the fire till then," Jon spoke in an unusually even voice. His tone was clipped, and he didn't meet her eyes as he spoke. Ireyne noticed the hunch of his shoulders and clenching of his jaw. He was clearly upset.

"Are you... are you alright Jon? You seem upset. I - you can talk to me if you like." Ireyne said softly. Her words hung between them as Jon stayed silent, staring at a spot nearing her feet. She saw his mouth open once or twice but no words came out. Ireyne supposed she'd overstepped her boundaries; maybe he didn't trust her enough to confide in her; maybe she shouldn't have been so inquisitive after all...

"I'm leaving." Jon muttered finally.

"What?!" Ireyne exclaimed sharply. _What was he going to do?_ Jon glanced up at her face then, grey eyes meeting blue ones.

"I'm going to the Wall. Joining the Night's Watch."

"Oh."

Silence descended upon the two of them. Ireyne hated this silence that always seemed to find her and Jon. She also hated the strong feelings of disappointment and anxiety that coursed through her veins at his words.

"Why?" she questioned. "Why are you leaving your home? And to go to the Wall at that?"

Jon stayed still for a while, eyeing Ireyne softly before taking a few steps back and leaning against the table, his hands braced at his sides as his head bowed low.

"It's an honor serving the Watch, I can -"

"- give up everything? Family? Future? Home?" Ireyne didn't know why she felt such dread at his words. All she knew was that this sounded like a bad idea.

Jon shook his head; Ireyne didn't understand. He had no other choice. This was the best future he'd get. So, he told her just that.

"You don't understand. I'm a bastard. I won't ever get a higher rank. I want to do something in my life. And here, in Winterfell, I can never do much - I'll always have to stay behind. At the Wall, I can work harder, hold positions. No one there cares if I'm a bastard or not. I can prove myself, be something."

His words stunned Ireyne. She'd never thought of him ever feeling this way. Was he really going so that he could achieve something on his own? To achieve respect? Was he honestly ready to give everything away just for a chance to prove himself? The idea was foreign and yet endearing to Ireyne.

"But don't you want a home, a family? Don't you ever want to live out your last days in peace..." she asked feebly.

Jon only smiled ruefully in return, replying a short while later. "And who am I going to settle down with? Most women wouldn't want to marry a bastard."

"That's not true! Any woman would want you," Ireyne argued. Seeing the incredulous expression on his face, however, she continued: "you're so calm, quiet, caring, selfless, and just nice. Most men aren't like you Jon. You're just so decent to the core, anyone would be lucky enough to know you. If a lady has even an ounce of brain in her, she'd marry you. I can't believe you would think otherwise."

The sincerity with which Ireyne spoke caused Jon's heart to soar. And, somewhere in the back of his mind, Jon knew he should've stopped himself two conversations ago. But he hadn't. And now he was going to reap the dire consequences, it seemed, for before he could stop himself, Jon blurted the first and foremost question that was plaguing his mind following Ireyne's words:

"And you? Would someone like you want me?"

Her eyes went wide. Jon's mouth dropped at his own words. Bracing himself for the slap that he was completely sure he would get this time, Jon began to formulate an apology in his mind when Ireyne's voice infiltrated his ears again -

"Yes. As a matter of fact, yes, I would definitely marry you."

And with those words, time seemed to stand still. Jon could hear the blood rushing through his ears; he felt lightheaded. It didn't matter if any woman would want him or not; it mattered that Ireyne would want him. Over the past few days that he'd known her, talked to her, Jon couldn't help but think about her with increasing affections. She was so different, so unlike the other women. She was a Lannister too, but she was still nice to him - a bastard.

And suddenly, memories involving Ireyne flooded Jon's senses: he could remember seeing her climb down from the carriage that first day; he could taste the roast beef from dinner the night she'd first spoken to him; he could smell the fresh moss from the forest where they had both saved each other; could feel her hands in his as they sat in the Glass Gardens; could imagine how warm and enticing her breath had felt against his skin when she'd almost kissed him; Jon could remember her soft touch as she tended to his wounds; he could see her even now, in front of him, vulnerable and honest and unguarded. It was just them - Jon and Ireyne - and no one else. Just them and their memories and feelings.

Overcome with emotions - and throwing all caution to the wind - Jon reached around to grab Ireyne's waist as he gently yanked her towards himself, feeling her soft body collide with his. She let out a soft gasp at being caught off guard, but her eyes were smiling; they were sparkling and wide with wonder, challenging him to do something much more daring.

Jon was faintly aware of the scent of jasmine consuming his senses and Ireyne's eyelids fluttering shut. Their faces were far too close together. Before his rationale could catch up with him, Jon ducked his head to kiss her. He moved first; or maybe it was Ireyne who tilted her face up first. Regardless, the two were undeniably kissing each other. Their lips moulded together, slanting against each other's, not perfectly, but well enough to feel _really_ good. He kissed her softly at first, testing her, making sure it was okay. Ireyne responded by pressing her lips more firmly against Jon's, wrapping her arms around his neck to tug him even closer. Jon kissed her again, gradually increasing his intensity, making Ireyne cling to him as if she'd float away if he didn't anchor her.

His insistent lips parted hers slowly, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. His tongue slid over hers then, drawing out a groan from Ireyne, who retaliated by biting his lower lip. This earned her a low moan from Jon; she nearly smiled. He was kissing her with such fervent ardor that Ireyne found it difficult to not take things a step forward. She didn't want to push him; she only wanted to enjoy this moment right here for all it was worth. Allowing him to run his tongue over hers, Ireyne reached up to grab a lock of his curly hair, feeling it run through her fingers like fine silk as she kissed him back. Their lips continued moving back and forth as their hands roamed around slightly.

They kissed like that for what felt like hours, neither able to let go of the other's lips. Eventually, the need for air became so great that Jon had to break away. He rested his forehead against Ireyne's as they both panted harshly, eyes still closed, hands still around one another.

Jon and Ireyne stood in the same position as they caught their breath, foreheads pressed together, their lips still just a few scant spaces from one another's. Jon was still half-perched upon the sturdy oak table as Ireyne leaned into him. A hand of hers was placed on his shoulder, warm and steady. And although it felt like it was scorching his skin, Jon didn't dare ask her to remove it; he liked the fleeting weight of her hand on his shoulder. Her other hand was wound up in his hair, her fingers rubbing his scalp lightly.

Jon stared at her, stared and stared at the golden-haired girl whose blue eyes were currently shut and whose lips were swollen pink. _Because of me_ , thought Jon wildly, happily. He could hardly believe that the last few minutes had actually happened. There he was upset at the prospect of leaving and she'd walked in. Now here he was, holding the girl who had haunted his dreams since the day he saw her; the girl whom he had so desperately wanted to hold; the girl who could have any nobleman in Westeros and yet here she stood: in his arms. A relentless voice continued nagging him though, whispering how wrong this was, begging him to come to his senses.

"I should -" Jon began, trying to see past the haze that surrounded his brain.

"-Shut up." Ireyne interrupted, her eyes opening, alight with something Jon couldn't place correctly.

"What?"

"Shut up. You 'should shut up' now before you say something along the lines of 'go away'"

"But-"

"No 'buts'," Ireyne muttered, her voice dropping a notch. "I know you're leaving. I'll go back South in a few weeks too. But until then," her hands toyed with the laces on Jon's jerkin, "you and I can..."

"We can?" Jon croaked, his voice so breathless it made Ireyne smile in spite of herself.

"I like you, Jon Snow. I seem to like you very much. And I was never going to tell you because what if you liked me back too? I must go back; I will never be able to stay with you. I thought I was doing you a favor - you could carry on with your life, get married, fall in love, have children, a normal life... But you aren't going to ever have all that, now are you? So, I'm guessing it's okay for me to tell you how much I like you." Ireyne admitted - finally, after so long, she felt elated to say it out loud to him, "Now, the only question that remains is this: do you like me back?"

"...Yes."

Ireyne's eyes remained locked in on Jon's as she smiled deviously, "In a way that makes you want to rip my clothes and do things men do to women?"

Jon's eyes widened for a long moment, his blush deepening impossibly. Her words had their desired effect. And then he spoke in a low voice, so softly that Ireyne almost didn't hear his words:

"In a way that keeps me awake most nights, keeps me from concentrating on little else except you." Now it was Ireyne's turn to gape at him, but Jon persisted on, "In a way that makes me want to run away from everything, if only I could be with you. In a way that makes my heart beat faster whenever you're near, makes me want to talk to you, listen to your voice, see your face. That's how I like you, Ireyne: in ways you probably can't imagine."

Ireyne was vaguely aware that her lungs weren't functioning; she couldn't breathe. Not that it mattered in this moment. Between the completely honest, vulnerable expression Jon wore on his face, and the mind-numbing, heart-racing words he'd said, Ireyne couldn't think of anything else. Most men gave in to their lust at her words - what were they to do if a woman herself was asking them if they wanted to do things that ladies didn't speak of? It usually indicated whether they were interested in her, or her body.

Now either Jon was an expert liar, or he was actually being honest. Ireyne had a strong feeling that it was the latter.

And so, for the first time ever - and most likely the last - Ireyne resolved to gamble with her own heart. She knew this was foolish, was keenly aware that this would result in a terrible heartache eventually but... it would be worth it, _so worth it_ , if she could spend a small eternity with Jon; if Ireyne could create memories that were certain to be treasured until she drew her last breath.

"I think I can imagine it very well Jon. I might have been liking you in the same way all this time too." Ireyne whispered softly as she tilted her head up to meet his lips once more. It was Jon's hands that stopped her, however. She blinked confusedly up at him. _Why was he stopping now?_

"We still can't."

"Why not?"

"We... I-you..."

"Look, you and I are not meant to be. We're both going our own separate paths in a short while. I know." Ireyne said, raising a hand to halt whatever Jon was about to say in protest, "but, until the time comes, until that moment, you and I can make the most of what we have. It's not much, but it'll do. We can - we can know what it's like to be in lo- to be _liked_ like this."

The seconds following Ireyne's words seemed to stretch into minutes - hours - days. The chilly winds howled; the fire crackled, its embers dispersing into the air like fireflies; she breathed - in and out, in and out; Jon stared, grey eyes unyielding, not a single emotion betraying him. He thought long and hard; he thought with everything he was worth. Jon knew that the best course of action would be to leave her now - pretend this never happened. Father had told him, _warned him_ , not to mingle with Lannister's or anyone from the South. But perhaps she was right - maybe living, loving, for a short while would be enough. It'd have to be enough. They both knew it was not to last. Jon knew she would go back to King's Landing and get married to some highborn lord; Jon would go to the Wall and spend the rest of his days fighting whatever was beyond the ice Wall and -,

And she was still patiently staring up at him with those eyes that burned like blue flames, her cheeks pink, hair cascading over the thin shoulders, mouth still parted. And now Jon knew just how perfectly his lips fit against hers, how her arms felt around his neck, how _his_ arms felt around her waist, how their hearts beat faster together, and how sheer bliss consumed him when she was his.

There really wasn't much he could do now, was there?

"Alright, alright, Ireyne Lannister. Let's make the most of these few days then."

The golden-haired girl in front of him smiled back widely, far more genuinely than he'd ever seen her smile, her dimples much more prominent now just as her eyes burned impossibly bright. She let out a sigh, in relief most likely. Jon at least hoped so.

Exhaling slowly, he hesitantly moved his hand to cup her flushed cheek, gleefully noting that she too automatically tilted her head up a little. Jon leaned in slightly to kiss her gently. And then he kissed her softly one more time. And another time. And once more, letting his lips linger against hers this time, not moving but just staying close enough to feel her breath, feel her heart beat, feel her. And the silence that surrounded them was no longer irking Ireyne. Quite contrary. Jon and Ireyne stood in the same position, afraid to move, attempting to cherish the moment forever. Minutes blended together, and time lost all meaning. Eventually, it was Ireyne who spoke up again:

"So, are you going to get me that plate of food, Jon? Or am I supposed to die hungry?"

The deep laugh that echoed around the room was, in Ireyne's opinion, the best sound she'd heard in a long, long while. As Jon moved away from her to grab something to eat, and she walked towards the fireplace to sit down, Ireyne couldn't help but think that whatever she was doing was mad - yes - but it was also the best decision she'd ever made. Damn the consequences.

And then Jon returned, his arms laden with dishes of bread and cheese, berries, and ham. Sitting down next to her, he passed her a plate which Ireyne gratefully accepted. The two sat there then, in front of the fire, eating and talking about this and that and everything and nothing.

* * *

"So... You're going to be... celibate?"

"...Ireyne!"

"What? It's just a question Jon. Answer it. Or leave me to awkwardly gawk at you until you finally answer me."

"...I- I - yes."

"Oh."

* * *

"So... You won't ever have any other woman in your life?"

"That is the idea, yes."

"Oh."

* * *

"So... have you ever been in love before Jon?"

"Do you want some ale, or wine? And, not exactly love I suppose."

"Wine is good. But what do you even mean by 'not exactly'?"

"I don't know if it's love but,"

"But?"

"I like this one girl - she asks too many questions though..."

"...Oh?"

"Oh."

* * *

"You know, I like this one boy too."

"Must be a lucky one."

"Perhaps, he is a bit too quiet though. Pass me the berries, please."

* * *

"Jon?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you kiss me ag-mmph..."

* * *

 **— (End Notes) —**

Thank you for reading SS so far! Jon and Ireyne "Joreyne" are finally together! I'm so excited to move things along! Hopefully you'll like their story as it moves on.

As always, your reviews would be most welcome so don't forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter, of Ireyne Lannister, of Joreyne, or anything else about this fanfic.

Until next time, cheers!

— Elaine :)


	13. Delicate

**_"There are just two directions in life: the one which is safe but boring, and the other which is delicate but exciting. Now ask yourself, which path will you go?"_**

 **— Joe Mari**

* * *

After a long and cold night, the sunrise seemed to finally bring glimmers of warmth along with it. As the black sky gradually faded into a steely grey, taking away the luster of millions of twinkling stars with it, the first bursts of brilliant hues appeared over the horizon: it seemed as though an invisible artist had begun his work by painting the sky in sharp hues of orange and crimson and pink, coloring and superseding each color with an even sunnier one until the the entire sky – as far as the naked eye could see – was streaked with golden rays that trickled over the moors adjoined to the stone castle like honey over crisp bread.

Wispy clouds steadily accumulated high above as the trees continued waving sluggishly, caught up in the ever-present Northern gale. Birds began singing their sweet morning hymns too, only adding to the idyllic ambience of yet another fine daybreak in The North.

Magnificent. That was the only word that Vaera could think of as she gazed at the changing sky outside from one of Winterfell's enormous windows. And yet, the word still did not fully encapsulate the feeling of watching the sun slowly climb above the rocky highlands, seeing the darkness melt away, surrendering to the arresting light that screamed for victory.

She stood there, staring at the sunrise for what felt like ages. She stood there, permitting its colors to seep through her bones, allowing the warmth run through her veins. The melody of the birds harmonizing filled her ears, making her feel as if she'd floated to another existence. If she closed her eyes, Vaera could almost pretend she was back in Tyrosh – safe in the small house alongside the trenches, her mother's sweet voice, intermingled with those of her sisters', echoing in her ears as they rushed around in the early hours of the day to get ready and arrange their place in the market.

Their family of eight had been poor, very poor, oftentimes going hungry for days with only stale bread and barely a glass of water each. Her five other sisters were younger than Vaera herself; she wondered what they looked like now, so many years later – did they have the same cheekbones that she did, or did they inherit their father's chubby face; were they still as chirpy as they had been then? Asking for sweets every time mother returned, or had they learned to to not pester mother for such things?

As she began making her way to her Lady Ireyne's room again, just like every other morning for the past 10 years, Vaera's thoughts unwillingly turned to that fateful day in the market when she'd been sent away to Westeros. She was working in the tiny makeshift shop her father used to sell handwoven cloth, asking men and women to come buy some new cloth. She had been nine then. A strange man, tall and lean, with clothing in hues of red and beige had walked in; he was wealthy, even a young girl of nine could tell. Vaera remembered him talking to her father in a low voice, the piercing green eyes that had stared at her own brown ones. The rest of the days following that man's visit were a blur of arguments, shouting, tears, and goodbyes. That man – Tywin Lannister, her father mentioned – had offered Vaera work: to go live with and serve his youngest daughter.

Her mother had protested; her sisters had cried; Vaera had remained silent. Tywin Lannister had offered them a huge amount of money annually in return for letting Vaera go to Westeros. It was a difficult decision, guaranteed, but it was a wise one – her family wouldn't struggle for the simplest of resources, they wouldn't have to beg or walk leagues to earn a loaf of bread – and Vaera had her mind made up about this offer.

And so, from the day she had set foot in Westeros, at the age of nine, Vaera had spent all her days with her Lady Ireyne. She had seen Ireyne grow up; she had grown up with her. She'd seen Ireyne develop a love for books and a hatred for knitting, had seen Ireyne fail at dance lessons but succeed at history ones, had seen Ireyne make accomplices and lose friends, seen Ireyne cry tears of sorrow but also tears of joy. Vaera had seen Ireyne in every possible situation. However, Vaera had never seen Ireyne like _this_.

When she'd strolled into Ireyne's chambers that morning, Vaera had not expected - in her wildest of imaginations - to see Ireyne already dressed and ready for the day. But it was true, her eyes weren't deceiving her. Ireyne had never been one to wake up early in the day, preferring to stay up late in the night and wake up later in the day. Septa Gretta had berated Ireyne one too many times about this ungodly habit, yet Ireyne had payed it no heed. So it was the most peculiar sight to see the youngest Lannister up so early and in such an eccentric mood. 'Eccentric' because, to Vaera's confusion, Ireyne was also singing to herself softly, humming and swaying and smiling to herself. She could just barely hear the soft, melodic tune that Ireyne was singing:

 _Searching glens and mountains high  
And along the crystal streams  
And ever drawing neigh  
The lady of his dreams_

 _After years he'd seen it all  
_

 _Every beauty but for one  
_ _His pace slowed to a drawl  
_ _And thought he ought be done_

 _Then he saw atop a hill_  
 _His sweet maiden waiting true_  
 _"I knew I'd find you still_  
 _For, sweet, I dreamed of you..._ Vaera! _"_

Ireyne exclaimed, seeing her handmaiden stand in the doorway with an expression of utter disbelief etched upon her narrow face. Ireyne felt her face turn a dark shade of red at being caught singing. She had never sung in front of people before; Ireyne could not sing. It was the truth. She knew it. When she was younger, Ireyne had wished desperately that her voice would magically transform itself into the likes of the other girls at court - sweet and soft and melodic. Yet Ireyne's voice wasn't like theirs. Her voice was smooth and gentle, sure, but it was laced with a shallow rasp. Cersei had once called her voice 'sultry'. But you couldn't sing with a sultry voice; Ireyne was not meant to sing. But today seemed like a wonderful day to hum regardless of whether or not she had the voice to do so.

Ireyne had barely gotten a wink of sleep last night, lying awake thinking of the events that had transpired in the past few weeks and their eventual, blissful conclusion last night. Even a lack of sleep could not intimidate the fire burning inside Ireyne now. She could practically taste Jon's lips on hers again as they stood in the chilly kitchen; she could feel his heartbeat underneath her fingertips as they stood pressed against each other in a concealed alcove on their way back, hiding from a pair of Lannister guards; she could still envision the dazed, giddy expression on Jon's face when he'd finally managed to surreptitiously escort her back to her chambers last night; she could still feel her heart race, her breath halt as his lips caressed hers one last time, as he leaned his forehead against hers and mumbled a soft 'goodnight, Ireyne'.

She had been so consumed with the thoughts of Jon that it had completely escaped her conscience to be aware of her surroundings. Seeing her handmaiden stand stock-still jolted some sense back into Ireyne, pulling her out from her blissful daydream. Clearing her throat much more loudly than was necessary, Ireyne took in a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her excited nerves and put up a passive face instead.

"Vaera? You're late today. I've been up for a while now."

"My apologies, my lady," replied Vaera, her voice hinting her astonishment at Ireyne's behavior. She wasn't late; Ireyne was up early. "Has something happened? You seem very... happy today."

Ireyne flushed a little, cursing her body for its unrequired responses. "Can't I just be happy sometimes? Maybe I just had a very nice dream last night, maybe I'm feeling a little spirited today. There's no harm in it, is there?" The golden-haired girl spoke with as much haughty confidence as she could muster, knowing very well that Vaera was likely to see past this facade too.

"A dream? What kind of a dream? Ones with curly haired men in it?" Vaera smirked as she began walking around Ireyne's chamber, picking up a dress from the chair and a cloak from the bed.

Ireyne was glad Vaera's back was turned towards her so that she missed the momentary surprise on Ireyne's face, and the deep flush that colored her cheeks now. Ireyne wanted to respond with some sharp line, deny all such claims and 'Vaera! How could you even suggest such a thing? I haven't given you permission to speak so freely to me'. But she knew any word she said in her defense would bounce off Vaera instantly; Vaera understood her far too well; Ireyne confided in her handmaiden more than anyone else in the world.

There was also the tiny issue that upon the mere suggestion of _him_ , instead of becoming defensive, her mind was sent spiraling down the path of daydreams once more.

"Not men, Vaera. Definitely not 'men'", Ireyne spoke so softly she wasn't even sure Vaera heard her. _Man, one single man is who I dreamed off_ , Ireyne added silently, smiling to herself as she walked over to the window and perched herself on the windowsill. Viewing the marshy field ahead, Ireyne's thoughts strayed away yet again to Jon – this time, she wondered how she would be able to see him today. Would she even be able to talk to him during the day? Or would she have to wait until nightfall, when everyone was asleep?

A small knock sounded on her door, pulling Ireyne out from her reverie. She exchanged a look with Vaera, silently motioning for her to open the door. Where moments ago a golden joy had filled the empty spaces in her heart, dread now leached its way in, clawing at any shred of happiness it could find. Ireyne half expected to see one of her siblings, no doubt having heard of her escapade last night. Even though she was certain no one had seen her and Jon, Ireyne couldn't help but fear that maybe – just _maybe_ – someone had seen them after all.

With wide green eyes, Ireyne watched Vaera cross the length of her chamber to unlatch the lock, pulling the heavy oak door to reveal – not her siblings, or anyone else unwelcome – but the one man whom Ireyne had already spent hours thinking of today. His curly black hair was windswept, his skin flushed pink from the cold air outside, no doubt. He said something to Vaera in his gruff voice but the blood suddenly pounding through her veins had clouded Ireyne's hearing; she couldn't make sense of his words.

Vaera turned then, looking inquiringly at Ireyne, her brows raised up in a silent affirmation. At Ireyne's nod, Vaera swiftly departed the chambers, shutting the door behind her, leaving Jon and Ireyne to gaze at one another for a long beat.

"Good morning," a voice rang through the silent chamber. It was Ireyne, unsurprisingly, who had broken the deafening silence first. "I was not expecting to see you so soon, Jon."

Her words caused his eyes to go wide. She realized belatedly that he might think she did not like him coming down to visit her so early. _How wrong he was_ , Ireyne nearly laughed. Instead, she hurriedly corrected herself, "What I meant was, I was not sure you would be able to come see me just yet. I am very happy that you did, of course."

"I... uh... got up early today! Thought I'd come see you before I start my chores for the day." Jon explained.

"Really? I got up early today too!" Ireyne blurted breathlessly. "I slept through the night actually, so I just – I woke up early, even if I don't normally do so. It's completely fine, I'm sure." Ireyne continue rambling, highly aware that she should have stopped talking ages ago. She was about to continue justifying herself further - and make matters even worse - when Jon interrupted her.

"I slept through the night as well, it's why I too got up early" he lied easily, albeit sounding equally breathless.

The unspoken truth hung between them, however, like a shimmering veil that simultaneously separated them and bound them together. Each knew the other was lying; they had _not_ slept through the night. It was just a little reassuring for Ireyne to know that Jon too had had a restless night. He too, perhaps, had been plagued with thoughts about her, just as her dreams had been plagued with thoughts about him.

Given last night's proclamations and actions, they should not have been so hesitant around each other and yet they were. It dawned upon Ireyne that they were strangers, in love perhaps, but strangers nonetheless who were treading dangerous waters that had drowned men and women far more superior than themselves.

But even that knowledge, knowing the risk, could not diminish the fire that they had created between themselves. Ireyne itched to be closer to him, to feel his warmth again, to feel the serenity that immersed her whenever she was with him. His hands and feet were fidgeting too, as though he wanted to move forward – towards her – but kept thinking better of it, Ireyne noticed vaguely. But she had promised him to make the most of their time together, hadn't she? And wasn't time running out with every moment that they wasted being held hostage to their own hesitations?

Shaking her head, Ireyne moved towards where Jon stood near the door. His eyes lingered upon hers the entire time it took her to reach him, and even then, his eyes did not stray. Ireyne felt her lips turn upwards and saw Jon smile as well. She reached a hand behind him, not breaking her gaze from his, to deftly bolt the door again.

Satisfied with the knowledge that no other soul could wander into her chambers now, Ireyne grabbed the front of Jon's jerkin firmly, using it to pull him in close. If he was surprised by her actions, Jon did a commendable job at not expressing his true reaction.

"Is this an appropriate manner to greet your lady, Jon Snow?"

"No?" Jon doubted, his face so close that she could smell the mint in his breath.

"No." Ireyne affirmed, tilting her head up, chasing his lips. She was distantly pleased to notice that he too seemed to be leaning in, but she was far too fascinated with the thought of feeling his lips upon hers to pay much attention to anything else.

He tasted like fresh mint, Ireyne noted as she kissed him again. She wondered if he had chewed a couple of mint leaves before knocking at her door; the thought made her smile into the kiss. His hands were placed low on her back, warm and solid – she could feel the heat radiating off his body as she clung to him. Jon's hands seemed to push her in even closer as his face tilted sideways to allow him to better explore her mouth with his tongue.

Ireyne was drunk. Not on wine or ale. _Him_. Ireyne was drunk on Jon, on the feeling of him, and the feelings he coaxed from her. For the few blissful moments that he kissed her, the rest of the world managed to disappear until the only things that existed were Jon and the feel of his lips and hands and body against her own lips and hands and body.

Eventually, they parted for some much needed air. Ireyne kept her eyes shut, determined to keep this moment intact for as long as possible. When she did open her eyes, however, she was met with a pair of steely grey ones staring into her own. His eyes reminded her of the Northern sky at daybreak – the exact moment when the darkness faded and the light began emerging; the grayish-blue hue the sky would turn momentarily before vibrant orange and pink would burst forth. His grey eyes were the balance between the light and the dark; they looked like a storm – perhaps he the was a storm.

Jon cleared his throat loudly then, stepping back to put a small distance between them. Ireyne peered at him, perplexed by his actions.

"Oh, uh, and I had this for you..." Jon trailed off as he rummaged through his cloak gently. Ireyne stood close to him, intrigued to know what he had brought for her. Her curiosity was answered in mere seconds when Jon pulled out a single rose from within his cloak.

It was a pale blue colored rose, nothing like the red and pink ones she was used to seeing in King's Landing. The petals had withered a little though, perhaps due to being stuffed into a heavy cloak for a while, turning dark at the edges. The rose appeared to be squashed and wilted; it looked nothing like the kind of flower a young man would gift his maiden.

Ireyne loved it.

But Jon didn't offer it to her; he stood there, with his hand clutching the stem of the rose, frowning. Ireyne gently took the pale blue rose from Jon's hand, letting her fingers linger on his for a few seconds. His grey eyes met her, surprise evident in the stormy orbs.

"Thank you for such a unique flower. They don't have blue roses oftentimes in the South you know? And I've never been gifted any either. So, thank you Jon." Ireyne beamed at him, feeling her jaw hurt from all the smiling and yet, she could barely contain her joy.

"It's not even alive."

Ireyne resisted the overpowering urge to roll her eyes at him as she replied, "Of course it isn't. You plucked it out, it's bound to die. That's what plants do."

"No, I mean it's already... It wasn't the best rose even when I saw it in the Gardens earlier today, but there were no other roses either. I still took it though, I thought you might like it. And I had placed it in my cloak carefully," Jon mumbled as he stared at the floor demurely, ignoring Ireyne's meek protests as he continued to ramble, "but Arya and Bran ran into me on my way here and I think its why this bloody rose looks so terrible: because those two must've collided with it. They must have! Now its wilted and I hadn't meant to give you something so ummph -"

"-Jon?" Ireyne finally managed to interrupt him by clasping her hand firmly over his mouth, cutting off his rambling, and forcing him to meet her eyes instead of piercing a hole into the floor with his own grey ones.

"I love it. Whatever it looks like, I love it. It's an overtly romantic gesture that I would not have expected from you. So, thank you and shut up – do not criticize or insult my rose. Understood?"

Jon stared at her blankly before laughing softly, "Aye, understood Lady Ireyne."

The rose was a clichéd gift that, had it been any other man, Ireyne would have disregarded any day. But Jon Snow, shy, sweet, secretive Jon Snow had gone through all that trouble to bring her one. And it was his thought that mattered the most to Ireyne. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice screamed for her to stop fawning over him, to stop acting like a green girl. But at this point, rationality had very little to do with Ireyne's actions.

"So am I to understand that you are going to bring me a withered, winter rose each morning then, Jon Snow?" Ireyne asked him, only half-teasing.

Jon smiled coyly, turning a darker shade of red, before he replied in his deep, husky voice: "If you want."

"That would be awfully affectionate of you."

"And yet," Jon started as he raised his hands to place them on Ireyne's waist. Using the barest of force, he pulled her towards himself, much like he had last night. Except now, he merely held her close to himself. Her hands found home on his shoulders as she steadied herself. "and yet it still wouldn't be a complete measure of my affection for you."

Ireyne ran her hands through his curly hair, feeling the soft tendrils slip between her fingers like fine silk. She smiled widely as she replied, "Quite poetic of you, I must say. Perhaps you say such things to girls all the time, make them fawn over you..."

"No, I don't. Only say such things to one girl."

"Good. I bet she would kill you otherwise."

"Aye, I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

"Aye, you shouldn't either." Ireyne replied back, trying – and failing terribly – to imitate his gruff, Northern accent. The two looked at one another for a short second before they both burst out laughing. Her room filled up with the intermingled sounds of their laughter, ringing in Ireyne's ears and reverberating in Jon's soul. And for that one, glorious moment, any hint of anxiety that might have existed, melted away, leaving behind just warmth and happiness and two laughing souls.

* * *

 **— (END NOTES) —**

❉ I know this chapter does little for the story except elaborate on Vaera's background and show Jon and Ireyne " _Joreyene"_ (thanks for the ship name Grace!) and the awkward/cute (in my biased opinion) beginnings of their relationship. But I felt the chapter was getting ungodly long if I included any other key event here, and I really don't want to overpower the early stages of Joreyne's relationship.

And with that, # **Joreyne** is on! This is only just the beginning of their story. I think they deserve some happy time, so a happy chapter for them.

Enjoy the fluff while you can... ;)

❉ (P.s: Ireyne's eye color has been changed to green because, as a few people pointed out, Lannisters have green eyes. I overlooked that detail and made her eyes blue in the previous chapters. And while there is no genetic reason why Ireyne cannot have blue eyes, I think its still bothering a few readers, hence the color change.)

❉ Also, the song that Ireyne sings at the beginning is actually a poem that my amazing friend, the wonderfully talented Grace (theGhostofHarrenhal on wattpad), who kindly allowed me to incorporate into my work. Thank you so much! I love you forever and ever.

Until next chapter, cheers!

— Elaine :)


	14. Of Walks and Talks

_**"Attitude is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Optimism is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Giving is a choice. Respect is a choice.**_  
 _ **Whatever choice you make, makes you.**_  
 _ **Choose wisely."**_

 **— Roy T. Bennett**

* * *

"What do you love so much about her?" Robb asked, truly curious as to what exactly it was about Lady Ireyne that had gotten Jon so besotted. After noting Jon's giddy expression the entire morning, Robb had managed to corner his brother and force him to reveal the real reason why he was smiling and blushing like an idiot. Robb had an idea, to a large extent, of what might be the actual cause for his happiness but it was still interesting to hear Jon admit it.

Right now, Robb was sitting in his chambers all alone, save for Jon who, sitting opposite him, was moodily picking at his bread and not providing any substantial company. It was midday, and with nothing left to do, both boys were quietly eating bread and honey in Robb's chamber.

Jon's movements halted for a beat as he seemed to ponder the question. _What did he love so much about her?_ Jon didn't know the answer to that. What was it? Was it her beauty, her charm, her appeal? Her witty speech? Her rare displays of kindness? The question made him decidedly uncomfortable.

His day had started well — who could say that spending a few moments alone with with your lady was not a nice way to start the morning? Jon's mind inadvertently returned back to Ireyne: his golden-haired beauty with her dimpled smile, her shy demeanor, her sweet kisses... It all filled him up with a strange warmth that spread inwards at a rapid speed, heating up his blood and deepening his breathing.

But then, like fierce rain clouds eclipsing the bright sun, Robb's question floated itself back into Jon's mind, terrorizing him, daunting in all its simplistic glory.

 _What did he love so much about her?_ This unforeseen question was starting to strangle him. It was chocking him; watering his eyes, making him unable to breathe in a single gasp of air; his lungs were collapsing, his stomach dissolving into a puddle, his brain freezing and thoughts numbing. _Love_ , it was strange to hear someone else say the word in conjunction to himself and Ireyne.

Jon reflected on how just a few days ago, he'd secretly deemed all this to be some kind of powerful infatuation with her. She was young, attractive, confident, witty, secretly very caring, insightful, and Jon could go on and on about all that he loved about her for he had spent far too long thinking about Ireyne to come up with just one quality of hers. Jon just knew that it wasn't infatuation he felt. No. It was a feeling far more meaningful, and therefore far more deadly than simple infatuation.

Eventually, after having thought a great deal about the terrible question posed, Jon replied in a distant voice, "She snorts when she begins laughing".

"...What?!"

Jon looked around as his eyes slowly focused on Robb once more. Seeing his brother's incredulous expression jolted some sense back into Jon who flushed deeply, realizing what he'd said.

"What in the name of the Old Gods could you possibly mean by that, Jon?" Robb inquired, holding a piece of bread aloft.

"Nothing, I meant nothing. I just - she has a nice laugh." Jon hurriedly explained, continuing to blurt his thoughts, "and eyes, she has very green eyes - like all the trees in summer. And she seems so arrogant at first but she's surprisingly very shy too, though she pretends not to be. And I just - there's a lot of qualities to love about her, I can't answer your stupid question, Robb."

His brother remained silent for a long stretch of time. "You really do love her."

Jon simply nodded his head, not trusting his own mouth to express his voice. Robb sat silently, dipping his piece of bread into honey and chewing it slowly; Jon sat quietly too, cradling his cup of now warm ale. The sounds of birds singing outside infiltrated the room now that no one was talking at all, filling Jon's ears with a harmony that did little to ease his jittery nerves.

"Run away." Robb murmured eventually as he tore another chunk of bread and chewed on it.

"What?" Jon stared at his brother, perplexed by the sudden diversion of their conversation.

"Run away with Ireyne, take her and leave the North." Robb muttered, not meeting Jon's eyes.

Jon stayed silent for a while, repeating Robb's words over and over again in his head. A hundred questions formed in his mind, each one more formidable than the previous. He eventually settled on the one that kept coming back and haunting him, "Why? Why do I have to run? Have I done wrong?"

Robb looked at Jon incredulously, "You fell in love with a Lannister, and got her to fall in love with you in return. What's not wrong with that?"

"So you're saying I am an idiot?"

"Maybe you are? Jon, I am saying that you love a girl from a house that values birth status above all else, and you do not have the status they value. Listen to me, don't go to the Wall; take Ireyne and go South. Or better yet, go East – go anywhere in Essos."

"'Take Ireyne'? She's not a horse that I can just 'take' and run away with." Jon huffed angrily, unable to formulate any other sentence as his mind continued buzzing with Robb's suggestion. His utterly awful response caused Robb to, despite the seriousness of their conversation, weakly chuckle at Jon's words.

"That's not what I meant Jon. You are aware that the Lannister's would never agree to this? Seven hells, I don't think _our_ father would agree to this match – and it won't be because of your birth." Robb held up his hand to quiet Jon's protests, continuing his explanation: "Look, if you stay here, whatever happens, one thing is clear: you'll never be allowed to marry her. But if you leave, the two of you can build a life together."

"Away from Winterfell? From my home, my land?"

"Not for eternity, no." Robb said. When Jon's brows furrowed even further, if possible, the eldest Stark spoke again. "One day, in the future, I'll become Warden of the North. That day, I will ensure you come back home and live with us again."

"I'd dishonor our family. Wage a war between the North and West if I ran away with Ireyne." Jon stated firmly, raising a hand to stop Robb from saying anything further, "No! You know that's true. Father didn't face all that humiliation and raise me – a bastard – only for me to go ahead and humiliate him again. And if I do run away with Ireyne, what can I even offer her? A proper home, comfort? No. A bastard name? Disgrace? Of course."

"Jon? Sit down, please." Robb spoke evenly. In all his disbelief and rage, Jon hadn't even realized when he had sprung up from his position on the bed and begun pacing across the floor. He stood there, fuming for a beat longer, watching Robb simply stare at him. Eventually, Jon's feet moved slowly, step by step, back towards the bed where he perched on the edge once more. Cradling his head in his hands, Jon leaned forward on his elbows. His mind was buzzing, whirring loudly, screaming. Screaming all these things he shouldn't think about, screaming things that were right and things that were wrong. His head ached from all his thoughts; he needed peace.

Robb's warm hand rubbed circles on Jon's back for a long moment before Jon even comprehended it. Jon wondered if Robb knew what he was suggesting. If he had weighed the consequences, considered the aftermath.

"You know, I don't want you to run away" said Robb, his voice low and tinged with something Jon couldn't place. "It _is_ a bad idea. I know. And the consequences? Even worse."

"But then –"

"But then why did I suggest it? Do you have any other idea in that daft mind of yours that provides a solution to all this? Any idea that'll allow you and your Lannister Lady to be together?"

Jon remained silent; Robb understood the meaning of it. They both knew the answer wasn't favorable.

"If you go to the Wall, you'll lose her forever. You love her, I know you do. You've never been any happier. And she loves you too. If you make each other so happy, why not strive to sustain it?"

"But father-"

"Father will understand. Or else I do, at any rate. You have my guarantee that I will defend you. Its your decision in the end, but I can't think of any other way for you and Ireyne to be together."

Robb knew his idea wasn't practical; he wished he could take it back. But there really was no other way out of this maze that Jon and Ireyne had created, and Robb knew very well that his proposed solution was no real solution either. When Jon didn't respond again for a long while, Robb let out a long sigh as he moved around his chambers gathering his fur cloak and changing into his boiled leather jerkin.

"Well, if you are to stay this mum Jon, I must be off."

"Off where?"

"You see, I have been asked to show your Lady Ireyne the Winter Town," Robb whispered, an annoyingly smug expression etched upon his face. "I bet she'll be a little disappointed to see me but don't worry, I shall let her know that you are sitting here in Winterfell, warm and safe and moping around like a lovestruck maid!"

Robb laughed as Jon's expression became an equal mix of annoyance and amusement. Clapping his brother on the back, Robb fastened his cloak over his shoulders as he departed the warm chambers to brace the chill outside.

The sound of the heavy door shutting announced the eldest Stark child's departure - Robb was gone, yet his words hadn't; his words were still ringing in Jon's ears. The idea was certainly appealing, Jon felt ashamed to admit it to himself – it was what made him so angry in the first place. He wanted to run away; he liked the notion of leaving behind everything else and starting over. They could leave, him and Ireyne, and travel across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. Or Mereen. Or Braavos. He'd learned enough about those places from his lessons with master Luwin when he was a boy of ten to navigate his way around. Ireyne was sure to have memorized details about lands across Westeros and beyond as well.

Perhaps they could find a small cottage there, with flowers in the front and a small stable at the side. They were both young, healthy, ambitious – Jon knew they could both work; they could be together; they could build the life they wanted. He wouldn't have to go to the Wall and swear oaths of celibacy; she wouldn't have to go back South and marry a man twice her age.

They could both just run away and create a happy life for themselves together; they could share their smiles, their laughs, their happiness and their sadness, their doubts and fears; they could have children that had her smile and his hair, her wits and his speech; they could both grow old and remain with each other until their last breath, and.

And what all would this dream cost them? Honor? Respect? Family? The distinction between right and wrong? Jon wondered whether any of this would be worth the life they could have. And the more that he thought about it, the more he realized how little he knew about Ireyne. He knew she was smart, witty, bold, beautiful, and even a little manipulative. But would she give up everything she held dear to share a life with him?

Jon was at a complete loss for an answer. He didn't know her, didn't know what she liked or disliked, what she wanted in her life and what she didn't. He knew Ireyne Lannister but he didn't _know_ her.

And that, Jon concluded, was a fault that had to be fixed.

* * *

"He likes you too, you know? More than you can fathom, it seems to me." Robb stated calmly after a few minutes of deadly silence between them, making Ireyne almost falter in her step and lose balance. Almost. She was assigned to walk alongside Robb Stark today as he was supposed to show her around Winter Town and be a 'fucking host', as Jaime had put it when he'd informed her earlier that morning about her main task for the day.

Even though the younger Stark boy was still unconscious, the Starks were still very much aware of the fact that there were guests residing in their home currently and therefore, in a bid to be the courteous hosts that they were, had decided it would be a nice idea to show the guests around the Winter Town. Cersei and Jaime had refused, whereas Tyrion was missing; Robert was drunk and barely able to walk, and his children were far too young to go anywhere without their mother - at least that's what Cersei claimed. Hence, Ireyne had been burned with the tedious task of accompanying Robb on this weary tour.

And having been caught up in the rushing wave of emotions that had tormented her over the past few days, Ireyne had completely forgotten to pay heed to the rest of the world around her; Ireyne's heart sped-up at the knowledge that someone else in this world was also aware of the feelings that had been transpiring between her and Jon.

As much as she wanted Jon, she also wanted to keep all this secret. Wanted to keep the stolen moments, the secret kisses, the wistful glances, the shy smiles all to herself. Ireyne wanted to keep it all locked up in her heart and toss the key into the Narrow Sea so that no creature with flesh, blood, and a beating heart would ever find it and unearth her secret.

Ireyne upheld an unflustered, impassive façade, nonetheless, when she turned around to respond to Robb's words. However, before she could utter a single word, he grinned at her, raising a hand to halt her oncoming denial.

"I know, and it's alright. I will not mention anything to anyone."

Ireyne stared at him skeptically, her face barely showing her aggravation at the direction this conversation was headed towards. She broke out into a sweet smile, however, as she asked him, "You know what, my Lord?"

Robb smirked in her direction, not looking directly at Ireyne as he gazed around to make sure no one was within earshot of the two. Satisfied that they were highly unlikely to be overheard, Robb lowered his voice and began leaning into her sideways as he whispered:

"In the near future, Lady Ireyne, you might want to consider finding a better place than the kitchens to conduct your – ah, secret trysts? For lack of a better term."

If someone had offered her a vial of poison that very moment, Ireyne would have chosen to drink the lethal liquid rather than face Robb Stark ever again. She turned beet-red; she knew she was flushed-deeply because her cheeks suddenly felt far too hot; the northern wind felt like icy knives on her flaming skin. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind; each as unpleasant as the next.

"I don't know how to best to say this, but thank you."

Ireyne whipped around to stare at him. What was Robb thanking her for? This conversation made less and less sense to Ireyne with each passing minute.

"What on earth are you thanking me for?" Ireyne incredulously asked.

"For seeing past Jon's birth nature, and recognizing him for the person that he is?" Robb answered her as though it were obvious.

Ireyne wanted to snap at him, wanted to deny his allegations and storm away, trudge back up to Winterfell. But she didn't. She couldn't. Robb Stark knew she'd been in the kitchen with Jon – alone. It was very much likely that he was also aware of whatever had happened between her and Jon last night. And yet he was still thanking her?

Ireyne appreciated how much Robb cared for his bastard brother; he was thanking her for something that didn't even concern him at all - he didn't stand to gain anything at all from this knowledge. She wondered vaguely what it would be like to have a relationship like that. Sure, she trusted Jaime and Tyrion, and would share almost anything with them but it was a mark of how strained all her familial relations were because Ireyne couldn't bear the idea of having her family come to knowledge about this unsteady relationship she had with Jon. And although Robb Stark was clearly aware of it, Ireyne didn't feel as threatened by the notion.

"I am afraid I still do not understand why you are thanking me." Ireyne muttered, not denying Robb's claims at all as her gaze strayed once more to the tall turrets of Winterfell, her mind wandering away - far, far away from the chilly town she stood in. When Robb didn't speak again, she chanced a glance at him, satisfied to see the slightly shocked expression on his face. Clearly, he hadn't expected her to relent without a fight; Ireyne enjoyed the fleetingly small victory.

She was confident he wouldn't dare tell anyone else about her and Jon for his own brother would be condemned by such an action. And Ireyne did not need to hear anyone else's opinion on her and Jon. _Especially not some northern fool's_ , Ireyne cursed inwardly, sensing the oncoming conversation. There would be no way out once it began, hence the best course of action was to put a stop to it before this unwanted conversation even begun.

"Well, I have to say, no other highborn lady has ever considered-" Robb started again, only to be cutoff by Ireyne.

"- That is because there are no other highborn ladies like me, my lord." Ireyne retorted in a clipped voice, her haughty demeanor taking control once more after the momentary lapse that occurred due to her being caught off-guard. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must make my way back up to the castle. All this cold isn't good for my wellbeing."

* * *

 **— (END NOTES) —**

• Not much #Joreyne in this chapter but fear not, there's a lot more of their interaction remaining before the - well, you don't know yet 😏

• And I know Ireyne seems kinda terrible in the scene with Robb but I felt like it was my duty to remind everyone that she is a Lannister who has grown up around Cersei - our girl is not the perfect angel we think her to be when she's around Jon and while she does love him, she still holds some prejudice against the other Starks.

And she's also not someone who trusts others easily - Ireyne knows here that Robb is unlikely to do much harm cause, well she's perceptive. And for that reason itself, she doesn't want to waste her time having pointless conversations. Sorry if that bit isn't clear; i had to deal with some laptop glitches and lost a lot of the Robb and Ireyne scene, and it was draining to rewrite whatever I remembered of it again :(

I feel this bit here is important for her eventual character development so just bear with me.

• And sorry if this chapter lagged a bit. Life has been hectic and I can not concentrate enough to do better. I thought of delaying this chapter further but that's just being awful to my lovely readers, so here it is :)

Until next time, cheers!

— Elaine

 _(_ _P.s.:_ _all future chapters will hereby be posted on Friday afternoons, PST)_

* * *

 **— (REVIEW RESPONSE) —**

 **.2017** said: " _Awww very cute gesture with the rose" —_ Thanks hun! I wanted to have him do something cliche like a teenager in love you know? Glad is worked well :)

a **Guest** said: " _Nice_ " — thank you! I'm glad you like it; if you could, I'd like to hear more of what exactly you like/dislike :)


	15. Venison Stew

**_"We want the lightening_**  
 ** _in the bottle kind of love_**  
 ** _without the possibility_**  
 ** _of the shatter"_**

 **— gemma troy**

* * *

The rich aroma of roasted garlic and rosemary wafted throughout the warm, dimly-lit tavern. A tattered wooden sign outside claimed this place to be the _Smoking Log_ ; fires lighted various corners of the small inn with its low wooden beams and pale walls that seemed as though they may have been white once.

Ireyne adjusted the hood of her cloak more securely over her head, tucking away any stray golden hair she could see slipping out; she doubted anyone would recognize her, yet it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. Jon walked three steps ahead of her, shoulders taut and head bowed low. Ireyne wondered if he was as anxious as she was.

While every nerve in her body protested regarding the dangers of sneaking outside Winterfell this late, Ireyne couldn't help but revel in the surge of excitement that coursed through her nerves even as she felt perspiration forming on her forehead, her clammy hands fidgeting restlessly at her sides. For the first time in the days since she began her secret affair with Jon, Ireyne had stepped outside the confines of her room with him. Most days, they met when the sky became covered with a dark blanket; some days, she saw him right before the first slivers of orange light appeared. Twice they had managed to sneak into the Glass Gardens at noon - both days, the entire castle's inhabitants were having a day-in following a feast the night prior.

They had set up a tedious schedule, her and Jon. Each night, after much sneaking around past guards, he would arrive at her chambers, arms laden with food and wine, and a pale blue rose as well. It took much coordination on both their parts to make it work: Robb was charged with the responsibility to excuse Jon's disappearances every now and then among his siblings and friends should they question his absence, whereas Vaera would guard the door for as long as Jon remained in Ireyne's chambers – sometimes it meant hours. The fact that they always met in secret also meant that their time was largely constricted. They usually only had a few hours at best - too much yet never enough.

After an early supper tonight, however, Jon had shyly asked her if she'd want to sneak out to the surrounding village with him later that night. Scandalized at first, Ireyne thought about hundreds of reasons why she should have declined his offer. But he had been wearing that sweet smile of his, ears red and hands twitchy, when he'd asked her. As it was, everyone would also retire to bed early tonight, leaving Ireyne with hours upon hours all to herself. Perhaps seeking outside was not such a terrible idea after all. And so here she was, having braced the cold outside, in a warm and rather dirty inn.

Ireyne noticed Jon slipping a few coins to the barman, no doubt a quiet plea for him to remain silent about this venture. Looking over his shoulder, Jon gave her a reassuring smile as he continued to lead them towards the back of the tavern.

Once seated and tucked away in their shadowy corner, Jon and Ireyne were barely visible and completely inaudible over the roaring din of the warm tavern. Chancing a glance around, Ireyne noted that the place was mostly crowded with drunken travelers and old men who looked like all they ever did was drink and eat. Turning back towards Jon, she caught his eyes trained on hers. He smiled. So did she. And while it was pleasant sitting here, away from the confines of Winterfell and nagging fear of being caught by their kin, the looming discomfort sure made its presence known.

"Do you want to eat something? Its been a while since supper..." Jon trailed off, unsure of what he was supposed to be saying or doing.

"That would be wonderful. I didn't eat much at dinner tonight anyway," Ireyne agreed far too enthusiastically, "it's kind of impossible to keep food in when Robert keeps cackling and making lewd comments every few heartbeats. I usually avoid having mealtimes with him, if I can help it, in King's Landing. And I should perhaps stop talking anymore." Ireyne braced herself seeing Jon's expression of barely contained laughter at her babbling.

"No, please don't stop talking. I like hearing what you have to say."

"Oh that explains why you're laughing." Ireyne glared at him, her gaze falling short of achieving her intended anger, however, upon seeing his bright eyes.

Jon allowed himself to chuckle before answering her again. "I swear I'm not laughing at you. I like hearing you talk – even if you talk as much as you do."

"Idiot," Ireyne muttered more to herself than him, glancing away from his stormy gaze and smiling in spite of herself. She was about to ask him if he'd come here often when a young boy, hardly ten, appeared beside their table and began speaking at a rapid speed.

"Bread an' ale, carrot an' pea pie, cream o' wheat, broth o' meat, oatbread with only oats nothin' else, hardboiled duck eggs, an' veal rashers. You want?"

Ireyne wondered if there was anything suitable for someone like her at this tavern as everything the boy listed sounded extremely unappealing to her; she was certain this sort of food would never even touch the spreads at King's Landing, or even Winterfell for that matter.

"Umm, something off the better menu eh?" Jon questioned the boy. Ireyne speculated there was a second list of options for people who could afford such luxuries. _Gods be good_ , she thanked the Seven internally.

The boy thought for a long while, "Barley an' beans soup?"

Jon looked at Ireyne, his brows raised in a silent question. "I dislike beans, Jon. Anything else...?"

"The name's Arron, milady," the boy informed her, "uh, we have...cod cakes! Fresh cod cakes today. Herbs, butter, cod from White Harbor, bit o' pepper, an' a bit o' lime-"

Ireyne interrupted the boy, Arron, "- I can't digest fish, makes me sick – I hate the smell."

The boy looked at her strangely as he continued listing new dishes, "pork an' pepper pie? Honeyed ham with roasted leeks an' buttered potatoes? Venison stew with carrots, peas, potatoes, an' pepper? Spinach an' turnip soup with crispy bacon? Cold fruit soup? Bun with raisins an' orange peel?"

Jon glanced at Ireyne uneasily as she continued rejecting each dish, finding some fault with each one, not favoring leeks or hating turnips, disliking the smell of pork and yet wanting something savory to eat at this hour. Jon vaguely mused how she'd managed eating dinner these past few weeks at Winterfell when she was so painstakingly particular where her taste buds were concerned.

The boy was glaring at Ireyne now, unable to think of anything else that she might like. Just as they both began opening their mouths again, Jon intervened, "the venison stew here is amazing, I tell you. Why don't you try it, Ireyne? Its far more heavenly than the one at Winterfell."

Face scrunched up as though in thought, Ireyne took a moment to ponder his simple statement. It didn't sound appealing to her but she didn't want to make things even more awkward than they'd already become. "If you think stew sound good, we'll have stew. It is frighteningly cold outside, perhaps some warm soup would do me good."

"Stew sounds good," Jon echoed. "Two bowls of venison stew it is lad, and bread."

Arron let out a long sigh of relief, muttering as he went back into the kitchens, "Aye, finally, stew it is then."

The boy's departure left Jon and Ireyne to enjoy each other's company once more. Hesitantly, almost as though he were afraid, Jon's hand reached out and grabbed Ireyne's softly. He rubbed the back of her palm gently, taking in the smooth feel of her skin. When he eventually glanced up again, Jon found Ireyne blushing furiously, a small smirk playing on the corner of her pouty lips.

Realizing that he'd lingered upon her hand a beat too long, Jon hastily cleared his throat to talk about anything else. Just as he opened his mouth, a high-pitched laugh – a high-pitched womanly laugh – echoed throughout the tavern. Ireyne whipped around as well, tracing the source of the commotion back to a woman seated a few spaces behind themselves. Ireyne noticed a number of men around the tavern staring openly at that woman. And it was no surprise to the youngest Lannister.

The woman garnering everyone's attention had luscious black hair that fell past her cinched waist. She was dressed in a pale lilac dress that seemed much too thin for such harsh cold; with her long legs and full chest that her floaty dress struggled to contain, it was blatantly obvious who she was and why most men were openly staring at her.

Jon clearing his throat yet again made Ireyne tear her gaze away from the scene unfolding behind her to focus on him instead.

"Feeling alright there, Jon?" Ireyne inquired, trying her best to keep her face straight.

"Huh? Uh yes, yes. I was saying..." he trailed off uneasily, clearly at discomfort. He hadn't meant to bring her to a place that was congested with drunken men and prostitutes.

Sensing his discomfort, Ireyne calmly stated, "You know, I didn't believe taverns in the North to be like the ones in the South."

"You've been to taverns before?"

"Obviously," Ireyne retorted with an air of disbelief, "you think I've never been to any taverns before? It's a tavern not a brothel we're speaking of."

Jon's eyes widened comically, "What?"

"When I was younger, I used to sneak out with my friends to go roam around the town in King's Landing. We went to fruit markets, fish mongers, blacksmiths even, jewelry vendors, and..." Ireyne leaned forward, her voice dropping considerably as though she were about to disclose her deepest, darkest secret, "taverns!"

Jon chuckled deeply at her antics – he hadn't expected Ireyne to be as talkative or playful as she had revealed herself to be. He was mildly impressed by how adventurous she was, sneaking out into towns by herself, knowing she wasn't supposed to. Perhaps it was so surprising because he'd only known Sansa growing up, and she would never have done anything as unladylike as sneaking outside the castle. Although, he still had one question.

"Why'd you sneak out to go to a blacksmith?"

"The blacksmith was a sight for sore eyes, that's why." Ireyne replied without hesitation, enjoying the resentful look on Jon's face as she corrected herself, "No, he wasn't. He was very old and wrinkled to be fair, though might've been handsome once. Regardless, I actually wanted to buy a sword for myself. My brother, Jaime, would teach me how to fight when I was younger but I hadn't a real sword. I thought I could go buy one for myself but the blacksmith declined selling weapons to young girls." She finished with a look of discontent etched upon her ever so slightly chubby face.

Jon looked impressed though as he asked her, "You can wield a sword?"

"If by wield you mean run it through someone immobile, sure. But otherwise, I don't think so. Septa Gretta, my dear old-poor-terrible-horrible septa, decided it was unladylike of me to hold a sword, and so I was forbidden from practicing any further."

"Can you use any other weapons then?" Jon inquired, truly curious to know more about this hidden side of Ireyne.

"I can use a bow and arrow, and," Ireyne hesitated a beat, unsure if she should bring this up. She considered remaining quiet but then thought better of it, "a dagger, if and when needed, I'm good with that."

Jon's expression fell slightly at her words, no doubt recalling the fiasco in the woods; it was a sensitive topic best left to itself. Ireyne wondered if she'd ever be able to think of it again without hesitation plaguing her very being. She shifted in her seat uneasily, raking her brains to think of something to say to him, to ease this deadly silence. It was Jon, however, who broke the delicate tension.

"Are you any good then?" he asked her lightly, adding to clarify, "with a bow and arrow, I mean?"

Ireyne smiled gratefully for a second before the expression slipped, only to be replaced with a mischievous glint in her eye as she replied, "You doubt my skills?"

"Oh no. I know you're more than capable of slitting my throat but I need to know if I'm at risk of being shot as well?"

"Insecure?"

"Inquisitive might be a better word," Jon argued.

Ireyne grinned, "Let's just say that if I were to aim for a man's heart, at least I'd manage to strike his groin."

"Dangerous with either weapon then, understood."

Ireyne grinned widely at him, feeling almost lightheaded due to how happy she was. Her hours with Jon were the best of her days; she woke up each morning thinking of when she'd see him again, going off to bed with thoughts of waking up and spending another few hours with him. She wanted to tell him, tell him how happy he made her, how much she adored him, how much she lo-

"Ale?" a chirpy voice boomed in her ear causing Ireyne to startle and look over her shoulder, only to find the young boy standing there with a jug hovering above her head, eyes wide in question.

"Aye, thank you" Jon agreed, gesturing the boy to move away from his position over Ireyne's head. The boy began poring them a cup of dark ale each when Ireyne noticed the strange flush marking Jon's skin, his expression one of embarrassment and discomfort – he looked like he'd rather be anywhere but at this tavern right now. _That's funny, it's his own bloody idea to come here tonight_ , Ireyne thought to herself as she looked over her shoulders; the reason for Jon's uncertainty dawned upon her.

The pretty tart was obscenely gazing at Jon even as she sat in the lap of a man who had to be at least thrice her age. Ireyne felt her ears heat up, irked at the scenario presented. _Who was that whore to gaze at her man?_

However, upon seeing Jon's face, Ireyne couldn't help but snort – he could not have looked more awkward, or red, if he even tried.

"She's ogling you, pretty boy," Ireyne laughed, not even bothering to stifle her amusement even as she felt dread slowly leach its way into her conscience.

Jon raised his eyebrows, a grin gracing his sharp features, "Pretty boy?"

"I was talking about young Arron here," Ireyne retorted, winking at the timid boy who was pouring them cups of ale - he blushed deeply at her words and risked a squint at the tart before turning an even darker shade of red.

Jon's chuckle reached her ears and Ireyne saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye. Ignoring her fluttering heart, the golden-haired girl consciously tucked away her errant strands in a bid to hide her flaming cheeks from her rather attractive companion.

Smiling to herself, Ireyne took a large swig of the dark colored ale, instantly regretting the decision as the bitter liquid burned a path down her throat, making her eyes water and mouth splutter in the most unladylike manner possible. Now it was Jon's turn to stifle his laughter, which he courteously did as he handed her a piece of linen that he had fished out from his cloak. Mercifully, Jon didn't tease Ireyne much after, opting to simply remark, "It's a northern brew, stronger than most wines."

"Really? I would not have guessed." Ireyne coughed. Jon smiled slightly yet he still looked a bit anxious, periodically stealing glances over her shoulder - at the whore who was no doubt still eyeing him. _Would he have pursued her had she not already been here with him? Would he have given into her advances?_ The thought itself made her stomach churn into a tight ball of knots that didn't seem like it would ease anytime soon.

She doubted Jon was the kind of man who whored around, and yet. And yet he was still a man – and _weren't men all supposed to whore around_? At least that's what Cersei had always remarked; her brother Tyrion, though never spoken out loud, was guilty of having visited brothels quite often. It was the norm after all.

Ireyne distantly deliberated if Jon had ever lain with a woman before. It wasn't something they had ever discussed; they mainly spoke about their pasts, what they would do once they parted their ways, what they liked, what they disliked and so on. The notion had passed through her head a few times; she was curious, Ireyne had to admit it to herself as she sat in the dingy tavern coughing and reeling from the sharp taste of the nasty ale, what it would feel like to have someone in her bed. _What it would feel like to have Jon – no, you do not think of such things_ , Ireyne chided herself, cheeks flaming in spite of herself.

"I suppose girls everywhere do fawn over you. Tired of your current company?" She teased him lightly, only half joking. Taking in deep breaths, Ireyne hoped to calm her heated nerves, but the red rage that was threatening to consume her senses was making it very difficult to breathe.

Whatever Jon was about to say – protest her claim most likely – was cut short by the boy, Arron, who chimed in brazenly, a sneer etched upon his young face. "Well, he got a pretty lass like you here with him, doesn't need no one else, does he?"

Perhaps the boy had simply meant to remark on her beauty, but there were a dozen other implications of his words that simultaneously infuriated and mortified Ireyne, becoming the last straw in her mounting fury.

"Shut up with your bloody nonsense and leave before I lose my wits completely – I won't be responsible for any consequences otherwise." Ireyne snapped at the young boy; her nostrils flared as she continued speaking, venom dripping with every word that she uttered. "Stupid little fucker," she added under her breath.

"Oi, run off yeh li'l bugger," a gray-bearded man in an awfully stained linen tunic appeared out of nowhere to grab the back of the boy's neck and usher him away. The man then retreated and returned a short while later with two bowls of steaming stew that he slammed in front of the two youngsters as well as a plate of fresh black beer bread and hard white cheese. Jon thanked him politely, to which the man merely grunted in return.

Ireyne's face remained stoic.

"There was no need to be so harsh on the poor lad," Jon began once they were left alone.

"No need?" echoed Ireyne, her voice thick with incredulity. She could feel boiling hot anger still pounding through her blood; she continued ranting, "I'm a highborn lady of Casterly Rock, some meager boy cannot possibly say such things to me. They need to be reminded of their place if you ask me - such lowborn folks have not a shred of shame in their souls, insolent brutes, uncultured barbarians, breeding bastards like beasts..."

Ireyne shook her head in annoyance as she blew on her steaming spoon of stew. Had she been in King's Landing, no man with a beating heart would've dared suggest something like _that_. They were supposed to respect her, idolize her even, not make lewd suggestions.

After swallowing a couple mouthfuls, she registered that Jon hadn't spoken to her yet and, glancing up at him, she took in his peculiarly hunched form: his head was bowed low, jaw clenched tightly and hands curled into a firm fist. Staring at his whitening knuckles, Ireyne wondered what she had said to make him so apprehensive all of a sudden.

Her eyes widened mere moments later as she comprehended the exact implications of _her_ own words. Cursing herself inwardly, Ireyne hastily set her spoon down and reached out to grab Jon's hand, only to find him retracting it from her touch. Ignoring the sharp pang that stabbed her heart at this action of his – It was her fault after all, she shouldn't have voiced her thoughts out loud without weighing them first – Ireyne leaned over and forcefully grabbed his hand firmly in both of hers.

"Jon, I didn't mean for it to sound so terrible. I apologize, I simply meant that I could not believe he thought _I_ was a whore..."

"He didn't say that."

"It was implied,"

"That's your assumption."

"And I'm right in assuming so, why are you defending that boy?"

"And who should I be defending then? A girl from a known arrogant and prejudiced Western family?"

"Careful how you put that mouth to use, you aren't allowed to speak to me like that!"

"Why not? Because I'm a bastard?"

"Yes!"

They glared at one another, each breathing heavily due to barely restrained rage. Ireyne was torn between berating him further and apologizing profusely. _Everything was going so well, oh why did he have to ruin it all? Why did she say anything in the first place? Fucking hell._

Jon was stunned; their conversation wasn't meant to degrade so quickly but her words kept repeating itself in his mind, over and over again. _Uncultured barbarians, breeding bastards like beasts, uncultured barbarians, breeding bastards like beasts_... She may not have meant it as an insult to him, he knew she didn't, but one couldn't deny the truth anymore: he was a bastard; she was a Lannister. Perhaps Ireyne subconsciously saw him beneath her stature too, perhaps she thought he was like the rest of them as well, uncultured and disrespectful? It also dawned upon him how utterly incompatible they were – Jon had been right; she'd never be able to sacrifice the rest of the world for him.

He loved her, gods did he love her, he realized as much as he sat glaring at her pale face – as much as Jon was upset, he still couldn't bring it in himself to loathe her. But a voice in the back of his mind kept whispering that she detested baseborns, lowborns and such. And if so, why was she here with him? Why was she sitting across him in a grimy tavern, glaring at him over bowls of venison stew?

"Jon?" she started, "I apologize, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Never. But such people have no right to think -"

"Perhaps that boy thought so then because, in case you've forgotten, you're sitting here with a baseborn yourself, Lady Ireyne." Jon hissed, interrupting her apology. "This isn't the company a bastard usually gets to keep."

Ireyne was losing her patience now, hardly believing that Jon had the nerve to continue arguing with her. "Well, it so appears you are a lucky bastard then because I'm still here with you-"

"-my misfortune." Jon grumbled, barely audible yet Ireyne heard him nonetheless. He was angry, so was she. Thinking rationally, Ireyne comprehended that it was best to halt this conversation here and now, before things became even worse.  
"I wish to leave, now." Ireyne stated calmly, staring straight ahead and not meeting Jon's eyes. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him nod stiffly and get to his feet a little unsteadily. He took a moment to fasten his cloak over his lean shoulders before walking around the narrow table to stand beside where she sat.

"My Lady," he gestured ahead of himself, his intention clear. A sharp pain shot through her aching heart at his utmost formal behavior, but she knew where the cause of such stiffness was rooted. She could feel tears prickling her eyes, warm and threatening; _now's not the moment, do not show any weakness Ireyne Lannister_ , the young girl chided herself as she got to her feet with as much grace as she could muster, surprised by her own poise as she fastened her fur cloak over her shoulders with nimble fingers.

Walking a step ahead of him, Ireyne kept her head locked high, jaw set and eyes narrowed. She walked straight past the tart who had been gazing at Jon, barely suppressing the urge to lash out on the unknown woman. A flurry of emotions drowned her, Ireyne, raging from aggravation to hurt and remorse, making it an immense struggle to uphold her cool exterior even as she marched outside and into the frigid winds of the North.

— ✤ —

* * *

 **— (END NOTES) —**

Thank you to Grace (theGhostofHarrenhal on wattpad) for helping me out with a sentence in the bit where Ireyne's Lannister rears its ugly 'status-conscience' head. Her Lannister is in there guys, hidden beneath the pretty smiles she gives Jon. Sadly. For now at least.

And Happy New Year 2018! Couldn't be happier to say goodbye to 2017, but you guys have been the highlight of my year. Thank you for reading SS so far and commenting, voting on it. I love you all so so so much!

Until next time, cheers.

— Elaine :)


	16. The Lure

**_"I guess I have myself to blame_**  
 ** _I craved a love so deep_**  
 ** _I didn't think_**  
 ** _about the consequences."_**  
 **—gemma troy**

* * *

"Ireyne?" Jaime repeated himself, "Ireyne!"

"Yes?" the girl in question started with a jolt.

"I was asking you to pass me the blackberry preserve, preferably before I finish breaking my fast." Jaime spoke evenly as though speaking to a child. "You've been very distracted all morning; might I ask the cause for said distraction?"

 _It's Jon, it's always Jon_ , "I just didn't sleep very well last night, hence the lack of attention. Here you go," muttered Ireyne as she passed her brother the jar of blackberry preserve. She wasn't lying – she just wasn't being entirely truthful either. In the two days since the fateful tavern incident, Ireyne hadn't gotten more than a few winks of shuteye; she had spent most of the past two days reflecting over whatever she had said to Jon in the tavern – and regretting her words choice. She still couldn't comprehend why Jon didn't understand her, but perhaps she had been a bit too outspoken.

"This 'lack of attention' has been going on for quite some time now, hasn't it?" observed Cersei. Ireyne's green eyes flitted to fix upon her sister's, so alike her own except Cersei's were filled with taunting mirth right now as opposed to the growing fear in Ireyne's eyes.

"I just don't -" Ireyne began explaining herself, only to be cutoff by Cersei who continued commenting on Ireyne's absence.

"You seem to be enjoying your stay here though – you haven't once whined about missing the sunshine of King's Landing or its substantial food. For someone like you, who's always hated travelling and visiting the other kingdoms, it's a curious thing to behold," Cersei spoke airily. "I wonder what, in this frozen, bleak land, has garnered your – ah, _affections_ , let's say."

Tyrion shot Ireyne a knowing glance, one that she resolutely ignored. Continuing to slowly chew her oat bread, even though it felt like cotton in her mouth, Ireyne tried to not display her burgeoning anxiety at Cersei's words. The table fell silent, all three of her siblings regarding Ireyne silently, waiting for a response.

"I-"

"You answered your question yourself Cersei. It's the weather, that much is evident – you see, the cold temperature balances that hot head. Hence no complains whatsoever; aren't I right, Ireyne?"

Ireyne had never appreciated Tyrion as much as she did in that moment. Throwing him a silent, appreciative glance, the youngest Lannister turned towards her sister once more. "You must be bored out of your wits to be this concerned about me, dearest sister. Fear not, I merely do not wish to trouble you with my boredom is all."

Cersei looked as though she were about to argue further, and she might have too had Tyrion not intervened. "Is any one of us traveling with our King today," he inquired, voice laced with sarcasm, "to go on, oh the surprise, a hunt?"

Ireyne laughed. She'd heard the King was going on one last hunt during his stay at Winterfell. It wasn't to be a long trip but certainly would take most of the day. She also knew Jaime was supposed to be going but would he was another question.

Jaime was the first one to speak up, "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany the King, my knee's a bit fucked up right now."

Before she could stop herself, Ireyne found herself blurting out: "It isn't just your knee that's fucked up, its your morals too."

Tyrion let out a loud snort at her words; both Cersei and Jaime were glaring at both their younger siblings, clearly as equally unamused as the other two were amused. Tyrion and Ireyne both, subsequently, averted their gaze from the Lannister twins, unable to stand the heated glares much longer without snickering. It took them a few moments to compose themselves, after which the rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence.

Ireyne was cradling a cup of mulled wine, having long finished breaking her fast, when Tyrion excused himself from the table. Taking it as her cue, Ireyne began to excuse herself as well except Cersei asked her to stay.

"Leaving already, Ireyne? Stay a beat, I have something I wish to discuss with you." Upon questioning glances from her brothers, she elaborated, "Myrcella's nameday arrives in less than three moons. You know her likes and dislikes best. I merely wish to discuss celebration arrangements with you. Stay."

That was a lie. Ireyne grasped as much because she knew, as did Cersei, that she had no clue as to what Myrcella's preferences were. Whatever Cersei had to say was certainly not something that had to be discussed in front of Jaime or Tyrion. The comprehension both terrified and calmed Ireyne.

"What is it, and please don't play any games with me." Ireyne muttered as she watched the retreating forms of her brothers out of the corner of her eye. She was about to tear her gaze away completely when Jaime glanced back. He exchanged a small smile with Cersei, so subtle it might've been unnoticeable to anyone else. But Ireyne wasn't anyone else.

It dawned upon Ireyne that Jaime not accompanying the King wasn't due to a mangled knee. _Oh no, there's an entirely different reason for it – one that isn't as simple as aching joints_ , she thought to herself bitterly; she assumed it was safe to consider that Jaime and Cersei would not be seen much today.

"Funny, I'm not the one playing any games today Ireyne. You are."

If Ireyne was the least bit surprised by that statement, she did not show it. Instead, in the weariest voice she could muster, Ireyne drawled, "And what might you mean by that?"

Cersei scoffed as she leaned back in her chair. "You know, I thought your habit of lying to me had halted when you turned three and ten. Apparently, I was mistaken."

Ireyne's wide eyes darted up to meet her sister's burning ones; in spite of herself, Ireyne could feel her calm demeanor slipping away and giving way to the apprehension lingering beneath. Not once had she deliberated anyone knowing that she'd left the castle that night. She'd taken every precaution to be sure. She, as well as Jon and Vaera were the only ones who knew of the excursion; Ireyne wholeheartedly trusted both of them to have not revealed her secret to anyone.

And yet Cersei saying something like this could be no coincidence either.

"I didn't lie. I just wasn't completely honest. There's a difference." was all Ireyne said, knowing that there was a plethora of reasons her sister could've accused her of lying – Ireyne found deceits to be the most convenient way to navigate her path around court, and Cersei very frequently kept finding out tiny lies she'd muttered here and there.

However, Ireyne still had no inkling as to whether Cersei knew she'd been sneaking around Winterfell with Jon, or if she was merely taunting her to see if Ireyne had been hiding something indeed. It wouldn't be the first time Cersei had played such games with her; Ireyne had often been tricked by Cersei into admitting her lies when she was even younger.

"Oh my little cub-"

"I'm not your little cub."

"Oh but you are." Cersei argued. "you are but a little girl playing games you do not understand. Listen to me, I know that guilty face – I've seen it a dozen times. You have been lying to us all, I'm sure of it."

"A familial trait then, lying." Ireyne hissed, pleased to see Cersei's nostrils flaring in anger.

"You-"

"What, going to deny it, my vicious lion" Ireyne smirked, echoing Cersei's words from moments prior.

"No," her sister responded, "we love who we love. But that is besides the point right now." She raised her hand to stop any oncoming protest from Ireyne, shooting her a warning glare whose intention was clear – don't interrupt. "Know this: whatever it is you're hiding from me, I will find out. Sooner or later. And the consequences won't be favorable."

Ireyne's face remained passive as she spoke in an airy voice. "Very well then. But please, do get a little creative with these 'consequences' of yours. After all these years, your actions have become much too tedious for me."

* * *

When Ireyne got back to her chambers, she rather rudely dismissed her handmaiden, Vaera, from her chambers. She needed peace. Quiet. Seclusion.

Cersei's words kept turning over in her head. Her sister could be talking about anything – from Ireyne lying about having said goodbye to one of her potential-betrothed that day in King's Landing, the day they all departed, to her sneaking out of Winterfell two nights ago – there were a number of her lies circulating around, big and small alike, that could've been the subject of their conversation. But it did little to calm her raging nerves.

 _What if she found out about Jon_? Ireyne felt her heart ache at the very thought of his name. She had seen him around the courtyard thrice since that fateful trip to the grimy inn. Each of those times, he'd stared at her emotionlessly for no longer than a second before turning his back to her. She pretended it didn't hurt, but oh did it hurt!

Ireyne sat down, taking in shallow breaths as she her muddled mind gradually focused itself on Jon. She knew she shouldn't have said all that she had; he was right to feel dejected. But did he have to be so stony about it? Did he not love her as much as she did him?

Ireyne has had days to think about how much she has come to love Jon, adore him. _And it seems to grow with each passing day_ , she thought gloomily. Even now, all she desires is to put her arms around him, run her hands through his silky hair and claim his lips. She wants to feel his muscles underneath her fingertips and feel his breath on her skin and hear his soft sighs in her ear when she bites his lip the way she now knows he likes.

She wants to look into those deep grey eyes that she swears she can get lost in for decades; needs to feel the comfort of his embrace and the peaceful sounds of his heartbeat as she sits in his arms not talking at all because he doesn't talk much, and she enjoys his silences too even if she claims to hate it.

Its been weeks and it scares her how much she wants him at this moment. It isn't just lust, she's certain. No, it's this other feeling – this feeling of euphoria, like she's floating and the only thing keeping her tied to the earth is him. Jon. _My_ _Jon_. She has this jittery feeling in her belly, her palms sweaty and a flutter of shock runs through her body whenever he takes hold of her soft hand in his calloused ones and entwines their fingers as he leans in to graze her cheek with his lips.

Ireyne sighed softly. "Dear Gods, what is happening to me? Why is this happening to me? Why am I so in love with an idiot who hasn't come to see me just because we disagreed."

She moved lethargically towards her bed, fully intent on sleeping if she could, knowing that the King and many of his men were to be gone from Winterfell this morning and her siblings were all too busy to pay her any attention. But as she moved, her gaze fell upon the window sill and her feet halted.

There, on the window sill, Ireyne noticed the crystal vase. More specifically, she noticed the seven, pale-blue, slightly wilted roses that it held – roses that Jon had brought her each day. A week's worth of roses. A week's worth of love. A week's worth of realizations.

As though her body wasn't in control of her own self, Ireyne found herself moving around her chambers, gathering a cloak and nothing else. She stealthily escaped the confines of her room, perhaps telling Vaera where she was headed – Ireyne isn't sure of her actions much, her brain whirring with her own jumbled thoughts.

She had to see him. She had to talk to him, clear this haze around them. She had to apologize, had to set things right because they didn't have time.

Ireyne knew it would never be enough, any amount of time she got with Jon would never be enough. And Ireyne knows this to be true, amongst other truths she's realized:

The truths are these - Ireyne loves Jon. It's just as simple, or just as complicated, depending on one's perspective. She hasn't ever loved anyone before. Or rather, she hasn't loved anyone like _this_ before. Like this - this powerful attraction she feels; this feral lust that so often threatened to consume her at the very being; the sight of him that roused this sense of relief and comfort and joy that filled her up, up, and up until she is certain she would die by choking up on her own happiness.

She has loved before; she loves her brothers, she loves her niece and nephew, her friends, her handmaiden, her horse, her ruby-hilted dagger. She has even loved an auburn-haired boy before, and a black haired, brown eyed young man from Braavos. But she hasn't ever been in love before. Not like this.

No one's ever been as important, as vital. Ireyne thinks she fell in love with him the day she saw him. But she knows that is not a possibility in real life - one didn't just fall in love at the mere sight of someone. So perhaps she fell in love with him when he shyly asked to escort her back inside that first night at Winterfell. Or maybe she fell in love when he risked his own life to save hers. Or perhaps this complication procured whenever he averted his gaze around her, or when he smiled at her, talked back, disagreed with her, smirked at her, kissed her, laughed with her, at her.

And here and now, in front of his door, Ireyne knows she loves him. She loves him more than she intended to, loves him enough to do what she wants to do now. So before she lost her nerve and turned on her heel and ran back, Ireyne rapped on the door sharply - thrice - giving her hyperactive brain not a single moment to overthink this action or its consequences. It has become a part of her, these past few days: loving him. And it's become just like breathing - normal and unconscious - and just as vital.

It's just as simple, or just as complicated, depending on one's perspective.

She can hear his footsteps on the other side of the door, a soft ' _coming_ ', and the breathless beating of her heart against her ribcage. Its mere seconds before the door swings open to reveal Jon - his jerkin shed, hair mused as though he were laying down. _Perhaps he had laid down for some sleep too_ , Ireyne mused.

"Ireyne?" His soft voice echoed in her ears, calming her thrumming heart and clearing her hazy thoughts. He looked surprised, far too surprised than he should have been – he was not expecting to see her at all for they usually met at night. But perhaps she loved that about him - him and his over cautious nature. Glancing into his eyes, Ireyne noticed the faint traces of a smile gracing his features slowly as though he were registering the fact that she really was here. She didn't know why he was smiling. He ought to be angry, ought to slam the door in her face and never speak to her again. But he didn't do any of that. And she's glad.

Ireyne knows what the truth is. And the truths are these - Ireyne loves Jon. And Jon loves Ireyne. And they have very limited time together to make the most out of. So matter what the consequences of their love might be, no matter how volatile they might be together, at the end of it all, Ireyne is sure it's worth all the hassle.

It's just as simple, or just as complicated, depending on one's perspective.


	17. Beauty and the Bastard

**** Warning: Major sexual content ahead.**

I would ask under 18's to skip this chapter but I know all you rebels. However, still proceed with caution - I am not responsible for scarring your innocent minds.

* * *

 **" _If only you knew  
_** ** _what your touch does to me  
_** ** _your hands  
_** ** _would never leave my body"_**

 **— gemma troy**

* * *

His chamber was dim. Ireyne couldn't help but notice the lack of proper lighting in here; the small fire burning viciously in the stone hearth was solely responsible for illuminating his entire chamber. Knowing it was broad daylight outside and the room would be so much brighter should she part the curtains, Ireyne decided to let the darkness swallow them whole – like this, surrounded by an abyss of unknown save for them both, it would be far easier to talk things through.

She faintly heard the door shutting behind her with a soft thump. The rustle of leather, a soft sigh, and slow footfalls were the only indication that she wasn't alone. She felt him, more than seeing, brush past her and further into the room. Reaching out blindly, she grasped his arm tightly. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't part the curtains. Its easier to talk this way."

At his curt nod, Ireyne let go of his arm as she stood in the center of the warm chamber. She didn't know where to begin, what to say, what to do so that she could fix them both, fix this tangled web they had opted to create for themselves.

Taking a deep breath in, Ireyne braced herself for saying all that she had to day to him. "I need to say something Jon, and it's difficult for me to do so, so I beseech you to let me finish talking before you criticize me, alright?"

He nodded. His mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, however, and had Ireyne not been so agitated already she would've certainly scolded him for finding her misery so amusing.

"Regarding what I said that night, at the tavern," Ireyne began, wincing at the pain that flashed across Jon's face at the reminder of the incident. Nonetheless, she persisted. "I am sorry, truly sorry. I shouldn't have said such vile things to you. I know it's of little comfort to mention this but I never, not once, directed any of it towards you. Perhaps it is something concerning my upbringing, but I'd felt that boy should've been respectful of me. Of course I now highly doubt he knew who I was. But I was angry that moment and I didn't think properly. So, I am here to apologize and beg your forgiveness."

Jon remained quiet as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He patted the space next to him, a silent plea for her to sit down as well. Ireyne moved almost lethargically as she sat gingerly beside him.

"I wanted to apologize too, Ireyne," Jon began, raising a hand to stop her from speaking. "I said things to you I shouldn't have, things that I most definitely directed at you because I was angry at you. It isn't right for me to have treated you the way I did. I'm sorry too."

Ireyne stared into the fire burning in the hearth, her mind whirring with his words and her own. "We really are pitiable, aren't we?"

Jon huffed. "Why'd you say so?"

"We fight, say fucked up things," Ireyne responded, ignoring the flash of disbelief that flitted across his face upon her cursing. "then apologize and kiss each other until daybreak. Then fight the next night, say fucked up things again, then apologize and kiss one another... We really are peculiar together."

I..." Jon began before he lapsed into a deadly silence, contemplating her words far more than she had deliberated for him to. She'd experienced many silences of his; Jon never spoke much. But there was something different about this. He wasn't really here; his mind was far far away, contemplating words or actions. Who knew?

"I -" Jon began again before falling silent. Ireyne noticed his form tense up slightly, his hands tremble a little, twitch in their position on his knees. Then suddenly, Jon's hand reached out and grabbed a hold of hers. The action caught her off guard as Jon rarely ever initiated displaying his affection, but Ireyne nonetheless concealed her surprise expertly - it was what she was good at after all. She rubbed small, soothing circles on the back of his hand, not that this action took much effort. Quite the contrary actually. The action of soothing his worries, his tension, came naturally to her.

His windy eyes found her bright ones in the shimmering room. "I suppose we're not meant to be, eh?" Her heart sank at his words. It wasn't that he was wrong; he was right. And the knowledge that he was absolutely right felt like knives upon her heart even though she felt an odd calmness seep through the soles of her feet and spread upwards as she continued gazing into his face. Ireyne wondered if love was like this for everyone. If love was always like this – brutal and gentle at the same time.

"And yet I am still selfish enough to not restrain myself from loving you. I know I should for there is nothing but eventual suffering on this path for us. I know it. But the truth is, even if I could, I don't even want to try to stop loving you, Ireyne."

The monumental confession, buried underneath the weight of his simplistic words, hung between Jon and Ireyne like an iridescent veil; a magical linger; an ethereal barrier – it was a honeyed poison that was capable of ruining all they had ever cherished, and one that they both knew they'd readily drink, over and over again for a hundred lifetimes, if it borrowed them just one moment longer with one another.

Ireyne had known she loved him long before he dared mention it; little did she know that the same sentiment had afflicted Jon's own soul for the past handful of days as well.

She loved him. She loved him desperately, utterly, infinitely. Ireyne knew she wouldn't ever stop loving him now – _how could anyone stop loving Jon_? They'd never once proclaimed their love before – at least not vocally, not once, not yet. Until now. Now that his words had echoed in her ears, Ireyne could not force herself to think rationally. Of all the things she had anticipated happening in Winterfell that fateful day she'd begun her journey from the Crownlands, this was not one. Jon was not meant to have happened. But he had, against her better conscience, he had entered her life and become a part of it. Now, she knew that a fragment of her heart would always belong to him, love him – desperately, utterly, infinitely.

 _I don't even want to try to stop loving you, Ireyne_. And as flatteringly romantic as it sounded to her, a pestering voice whispered at the back of her mind: _but he has to! He has to stop loving you; this has to end, and soon_. Time was running out. Ireyne had never been more aware of the fact than at that very moment as she sat in Jon's dim chambers. It was running out like grains of fine sand from between her fingers – fast and unceasing; it was futile to attempt and freeze time. _I don't even want to try to stop loving you, Ireyne_ , his voice echoed once more in her mind.

"Then don't. Don't stop – love me as much as I love you, Jon Snow."

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "I already do."

Their lips met softly, staying simply pressed together for a few beats, savoring the feel of the others' mouth. Jon's hand laced itself through her wavy hair, grabbing the back of her head to tilt her head just _so,_ so that their mouth would fit like. That.

Ireyne unconsciously shifted herself closer to Jon, wrapping her arms around his lean shoulders, lacing a hand through his inky curls as the other rubbed soothingly at his neck. One of his hands was on her back, pushing her to him. The other had found home on her leg, a few inches above her knee, where it rubbed soft circles as his lips continued slanting over her own with languid expertise, igniting an inexplicable ache between her thighs.

She wasn't a complete stranger to the feeling, however. Ireyne had read about these kinds of feelings before – she shouldn't have but no one had even noticed her that day when she had nicked books from the one section she was restricted to go near, and those books had been very enlightening, to say the least. She had heard people talk about it on the rare occasion that she managed sneaking into taverns with her friends. She had even experimented with herself, tried to find out what the mystery revolving around the deed really was. But curiosity was a dangerous thing, an addiction that could never be satisfied.

With trembling fingers, Ireyne began pulling at the tense laces of his boiled leather jerkin. She desperately prayed he would let her do what she wanted, would understand her need and tactfully comply – _he must feel the same way, mustn't he_? But her prayers were too far-stretched, as she very well knew. Jon hastily tore his lips from hers, gazing at her with eyes full of surprise. _Must we have this conversation_?

"Ireyne..." he trailed off, clearly unable to formulate the question she knew was lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Knowing it certainly was not the moment for any games, she still played along. "Jon..."

His gaze narrowed, hands retracting themselves from her body. He shifted slightly, putting a few scant inches between himself and Ireyne. "What... I mean, we – you and I, we. We, uh,"

"Jon?" Ireyne interjected. "Didn't we just declare our love for one another?"

"Aye, but-"

"But? Don't you feel for me what I for you?"

Jon ran a hand through his hair, standing up and walking a few paces away from her. He looked back at her, the fire making his silhouette a black solid blur. "I do, I love you more than you can imagine but we cannot do _that_."

Ireyne felt her anger rise up. She too got to her feet as she marched forward. "Why can we not do ' _that'_ , as you say?"

His eyes shone with bewilderment. He sighed deeply even as he continued to stare resolutely at her. "We're not – we're not married yet!"

"Like we ever will be!" Ireyne had said the words before realizing what she was saying; she didn't seem to think her words through at all when she became caught up in her own storming rage. It hurt her to say the words, and Jon's expression clearly displayed his emotions too. It was just one of the bitter truths about their time together that neither wanted to face.

And yet, you couldn't run away from reality. Ireyne grabbed Jon's hand in her own. "We're never going to get married, live together, grow old. I'm going to go back to King's Landing and get married to some oaf eventually, not unlike Cersei." The thought made Jon's blood boil, even though he knew she was right. He wanted to say something but Ireyne continued speaking. "And you're going to the bloody Wall, taking oaths of celibacy and what not. We couldn't manage a life together if we wanted to. We have to make do with the time we have left – and it isn't much, I'm afraid. Don't you want to know what it's like, before you pledge yourself to the Night's Watch?"

He remained silent. Ireyne wished she knew what he was thinking but Jon wouldn't even meet her eyes, let alone say anything to her. Perhaps she had been mistaken, driven by desire, to think he would relent.

For a long moment they simply stood in the middle of his chamber. Neither moved, nor spoke. Eventually, when the silence became too heavy for Ireyne to endure, she began taking steps backward and away from him. The soft rustle of her dress against the stone floor made Jon look up. He looked bewildered, confused as to why she was moving away. "Ireyne?"

"You love me, and I love you. And I want you, Jon, the way that a man and woman oftentimes want each other when they're in love," Ireyne implored, her eyes downcast with shame and sorrow – she had, against every ounce of her own rationality, admitted her desire for him and yet he did little to ease her embarrassment. Upon seeing his still befuddled expression, she whispered quietly, "You don't want me."

She meant to turn around, to leave his chambers and run back to her own. Perhaps Vaera could bring her some mulled wine to help drown her own humiliation. Ireyne didn't know what she was doing anymore; she'd never been in such a situation before. And knowing that things no longer made sense, no longer worked according to her will, made Ireyne highly uncomfortable. So she had meant to turn around, to leave his chambers, and she would have done so had it not been for the warm hand that had seized her wrist with a firm grip.

She had barely a fraction of a heartbeat to comprehend what was happening before finding herself being tugged towards Jon. Her body collided with his with a gentle force; his hand pressed on her back to ensure she could not escape from his embrace. He waited until Ireyne met his eyes before leaning in slightly to claim her soft lips. Ireyne gasped into the kiss. He parted her lips hastily with his own, deepening the kiss further as his hands roamed her back.

Ireyne felt his hands slip lower to place themselves upon her lower back, pulling her even closer to his body. She could feel a rigid bulge pressing against her hip. She let out a soft moan as she realized what it was, what was happening to him. Breaking the kiss, her blushing gaze met his. Jon leaned his forehead against hers once more, panting ever so slightly. "For someone so clever, you really still think I don't want you, Ireyne?"

It was now her turn to maintain a deadly silence. Ireyne didn't move, but she didn't say a word either. Jon's eyes remained shut, his hardness still pressing into her hips, and yet Ireyne remained tight-lipped; she didn't want to elevate her expectations again, only to be let down by some speech about honor and morals from him.

"Ireyne," he began, "I love you. And I do want you, more than you can imagine. Wanted you for days but we shouldn't do anything you aren't certain about."

"And what if I am certain about what I want?"

Jon observed her guarded eyes. "I wouldn't be astonished, truth be told."

The sound of the fire crackling was the only noise heard within the chambers.

"And you," she asked him finally, maintaining a stony glare. "What do you want, Jon?"

He grinned lightly at her, seeing her own face split into a small smile, her dimples peeking out just so. His hands reached up to cup her cheeks as his lips drew closer to hers. Ghosting over her lips, he muttered his answer with as much honesty as he could muster:

"You."

* * *

She didn't know how long she stood there kissing him. Time didn't make sense anymore, nor did it matter much. His heady smell, pine and wood smoke, hints of sweat and soap, were clouding Ireyne's thoughts. She could feel him, smell him, hear his moans, as she continued slanting her lips against his.

She didn't know when he had started unlacing her dress, but she suddenly became aware of her bodice loosening as he continued unknotting the laces slowly. She tore her lips from his eventually, panting as she took a step back to unlace the rest of her dress herself. His lips were swollen, red and shining. Because of me, Ireyne comprehended happily, seeing his grey eyes darken as she managed to push the dress from her shoulders. His eyes remained concentrated upon hers, however, as he too panted in the silent chamber.

Dressed in just her inner slip, Ireyne stood there, the fire casting a golden glow upon her bare arms and face. Neither of them moved, afraid that the moment would break, careful to live an eternity in this very moment. But that didn't help the growing wetness between her legs, or the desperate need she felt for him right now. Taking a chance, Ireyne stepped a little closer to Jon, vaguely noticing his breath stopping and his eyes running over her still-clothed body again.

She waited until he met her eyes once more, noticing the deep flush that marked his skin, as though he was embarrassed at being caught ogling her. _That's humorous, considering what we are about to do_ , her brain whispered to her, and Ireyne felt herself heat up at the thought itself. And before anything could change her mind, before anything could change _his_ mind, Ireyne - keeping her eyes locked with Jon's - reached up and unlaced her shift with nimble fingers, barely comprehending the soft fabric loosening, or sliding down her curves and hitting the floor.

Jon gulped audibly in the far too silent room. His eyes running over her now naked body, eyeing the miles and miles of smooth, creamy, porcelain skin that was, at the moment, blotched with red. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch and feel and know if she was as soft as she looked. But he couldn't. He just couldn't move his hands, afraid that she would come to her senses and run away from him.

Apparently, she had completely different thoughts, because she gently grasped his right hand in her delicate left one, and brought it up to rest just below her breast, letting his fingers trace the silky skin there. He stayed completely still for a second, and Ireyne wondered if she'd have to do all the work here because Jon didn't seem like he wanted to raise a finger by his own will.

But then he did move, stepping closer, much closer, close enough for Ireyne to feel the heat radiate from his clothes body. She stared into his eyes, thinking she'd see stormy reluctance but instead finding bare serenity.

She waited for her heart to start thumping against her chest again, bruising her insides due to the force with which it beats around him. It took her a long while to comprehend that she, perhaps, looks the same as him – calm and knowing – for her heart isn't wildly thumping, nor is her blood pounding. No. Ireyne thinks she's at peace; she's never felt this calm in her life before.

The last inch between them seems to last forever. She stood in front of Jon, unable to move and break the invisible barrier between. Finally, finally, Jon decided to move.

When he cupped her breast in his hand and lightly squeezed, Ireyne felt her breath stop; when Jon rubbed his thumb gently across her sensitive peak, she felt the air rush out of her lungs; when he finally bent a little lower and closed his mouth around the hardened bud, Ireyne closed her eyes, throwing her head back and letting out a soft moan.

Her brain seemed to stop functioning for a moment then, because the next thing she knew, all sensations left her. Ireyne opened her eyes, her chest heaving, glancing around at Jon. He stood a foot away, pupils blown wide, hair mused up, his jerkin unlaced halfway and just barely hanging from his shoulders.

"What? Why did you stop?", Ireyne gasped out, hating how desperate she sounded to her own ears. Judging by his haphazardly unlaced jerkin, either she or Jon had tried to hastily unknot the boiled leather laces. Ireyne isn't sure who it was. The past few moments were a dark blur of pleasure and ecstasy.

"IareyousureyouwanttometodothisBecauseIcan'tstopifwegoanyfurther"

There was a short pause, the atmosphere thick with tension.

"What?" Ireyne questioned again, this time thoroughly confused.

"I said: are you sure you want me to do this? I- I don't think I'll be able to stop if we..." Jon trailed off, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground - looking so much more like a little boy caught stealing sweets than a man who was about to lay with a woman for the first time.

Ireyne choked up on her laugh, trying to keep her face straight as she stepped forward, toward him again. For all his bold speeches and proclamations, he still was her shy Jon. Laying a soft hand on his cheek, she forced him to meet her eyes.

" _We_ are doing this, not just you. I do not wish to stop. I want you, and I think you said you want me too," Ireyne assured him gently, pleased to see his frown fade away. Aware of the fact that she was stripped to just her pale skin while he stood there in his rumpled clothes, however, she continued, "And if you stop now, after I've stripped naked and swallowed down my embarrassment at this situation, I swear by the Seven, the Old Gods and any and every divine power that exists: I will castrate you Jon– painfully –I will ensure that you never get to lay with any other woman for as long as you live. You hear me, Jon Snow?"

Initially just staring with wide eyes, Jon eventually chuckled lightly at her words, shaking his head resolutely. Noticing the few inches that separated them once more, Jon moved forward once more. His trembling hands seized the ends of his gray undershirt tightly and before Ireyne could comprehend what he was doing, he had divested himself of both his ashy tunic and russet jerkin.

"Aye, I hear you alright, Lady Ireyne."

"Admirable of you." The blushing girl mumbled, unable to tear her gaze away from the bare skin her eyes could now feast on.

With the spell that she was bound by just moments ago now broken, Ireyne felt the blood rush to her face; highly aware of her nudity, it took every inch of her willpower to not shield herself from his scrutinizing gaze. The only other sign of her growing anxiety was her futile babbling. "It's nice to know your ears work well Jon, really. Imagine trying to do this and-"

Her words were cut off by Jon urgently pressing his lips to hers. He wasn't gentle or slow like he had been earlier. His possessive tongue parted her lips clumsily and slid across hers, drawing out moans from deep within her. His hands ran up and down her sides, warm and ever so slightly callused but still oddly soft, before sliding back and grabbing her arse.

"Do you ever shut up?" Jon mumbled into her neck, biting the skin there gently. Ireyne could only moan and pull his head closer with one hand, the other making quick work of unlacing the rest of his clothes.

He quickly joined them by their lips once more, giving Ireyne barely more than a blushing look at his naked form. He walked her backwards until her thighs hit the edge of his featherbed. She stretched out upon his grey fur covers with Jon covering her skin with his own, feeling every inch of each other's gloriously bare, and heated skin. Ireyne felt dazedly calm. Her mind was numb, deliriously content; it was like soaking in a warm bath after a gruesome day, or tasting the finest Arbor Gold; it felt like pure silk upon her legs or honey cakes on her tongue; it was all too much, too sweet, too rich.

"Jon..." Ireyne whimpered, feeling his fingers move between her legs, catching a glimpse of his small smirk. Before she could berate him, however, he decided to end her despair and stop teasing her; his fingers gently rubbed her sensitive nub, pressing down on it with two fingers, before moving a little lower and slowly pushing them inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out a few times, trying different angles, learning which ones made her keen and which ones made her moan.

"Oh my... g-good Gods, Jon," she panted as he finally began touching her in all the right spots. Before he could do anything else, however, Ireyne had grabbed his arm and tugged on him incessantly.

His eyes searched hers, trying to gauge her reactions and comprehend what she wanted next. Ireyne maintained eye contact with Jon as she trailed her hand low, lower still, before grasping his length and making Jon moan now. Before he knew it, Jon found himself aligned to her body; wordlessly reaching an agreement, a consent that came in the form of nodding heads and holding each other better, they moved, or rather Jon did.

Ireyne's mind was numb. Her sensations were everywhere; pain; pain; pain; pleasure; pain; pleasu-; pain; pain; pleasure. It took a couple thrusts, a few twitches and a few uncoordinated movements that seemed very afar from what Ireyne had heard sex was like.

This wasn't rough, or reckless; she wasn't crying tears of pain, or being ruthlessly thrust into. But they weren't moving gracefully either; they were bumping foreheads and fumbling hands; Jon sometimes slipped out completely, sending sharp jolts of pain interlaced with a sense of loss throughout Ireyne's body.

But they found their rhythm eventually - a pace that seemed to work better than everything else. And slowly, steadily, the rest of the world dissolved away. For Jon, it was just Ireyne who existed, who seemed to be the only reason why he was still tied to the ground - Ireyne whose golden haired smelled like fresh jasmine and whose skin tasted like honey - Ireyne, who he could not believe was actually underneath him, meeting his thrusts and panting in his ear.

Ireyne too could barely believe the surreal reality of their situation. Her entire existence revolved around Jon at this very moment, his panting breath and shaking hands, his slightly dumbstruck face and nimble fingers that touched her everywhere until she was sure her skin was more his than her own.

None of it was like the books, or the stories ladies in love said, or men who'd whored around boasted of. This sex was messy, and uncoordinated; at times funny, yet so sensual; it was pain, but it was also pleasure. Where one began and the other ended was soon impossible to tell.

It was all just a tangle of limbs; of panting and huffing; of "Oh Jon..." and "fucking hell, Ireyne."; more thrusts and sloppy kisses; teeth bumping into each others and hands running over any skin it could find; pleasure, and pleasure; "Fuck, right there"; and "I'm going to co-"; "Don't you dare, Jon! Not before I finish, please!"; and more thrusts, and hands sliding down to touch in spots that made her see stars; and more sloppily kissing, tongues exploring mouths it had memorized already; just "fuck!"; and it was all a tangle of limbs; of panting and huffing; of "Oh Jon..." and "fucking hell, Ireyne." and.

And.

"...Jon!" she whimpered as a few tears ran down the corner of her eyes when she finally came apart around him, her body curling upwards with the force of her climax, feeling sensation she wasn't sure she was capable of; Ireyne was vaguely aware of Jon sweetly kissing her tears away. It took only a few more thrusts before Jon lost himself deep within her, his sweaty body collapsing atop Ireyne's.

They remained motionless for a long while, still connected oh so intimately, unwilling to part. Ireyne wondered if her heart would ever slow down, ever stop beating so fast. Her body still shook from small, spaced aftershocks as it reeled from her pleasure. When Jon eventually rolled off her, Ireyne whimpered feeling him slip out. A dull ache had begun coursing through her sex that she knew had little to do with desire. But Ireyne would have welcomed any amount of pain happily if it meant feeling such a rush of pleasure with Jon again.

Jon was staring at her; she could feel his eyes trained upon her. She glanced sideways to see his glistening face smiling widely, an infectious smile that Ireyne couldn't help but reciprocate. She turned and tucked herself into his side, smelling in that musky, pine and smoky scent that somehow seemed much more pronounced now.

They didn't speak at all, exhausted – emotionally and physically. But Ireyne still wondered, wondered if she was simply making it harder for herself to leave him should the time come. Her future her never looked so bleak, so hazy as it did that moment. She didn't know who she would be once she went back, how she would love someone else in her lifetime that wasn't Jon.

Jon kissing her forehead broke Ireyne out from her reverie. She glanced up at him as his fingers laced through hers, seeing a mix of love and calm adorning his graceful features. And then and there, in Jon's warm chamber, locked in his tender embrace as both their sweaty, sticky bodies cooled off, Ireyne knew that a part of her would always love him – desperately, utterly, infinitely.

* * *

 **(END NOTES)**

I apologize for the cringe-worthy dialogues in some parts of this chapter as a whole but this was all super awkward to write, alright? I tried making it as meaningful and important and real as possible, so if I failed in doing that, know that at least I tried _really_ hard. Fyi, I've never stressed out over any chapter as much as I did over chapter 17.

Oh well. Anyway, this happened between Joreyne this week.

 _ **Don't forget to review this chapter and let me know your thoughts about this one!**_

Until next time, cheers!

— Elaine :)


	18. We Love Whom We Love

**_"The lies my heart can tell when it comes to you."_**  
 **— gemma troy**

* * *

 **"IREYNE?"**

Feeling much like a soothing kiss upon her heated skin, a cool breeze caressed her bare back. She felt the downy cotton of his sheets underneath her and the comfortable weight of winter furs above her slumbering body. Hazy orange and yellow spots danced behind her closed eyelids, urging her to lift them and observe the world around. She wondered what time of the day it was now, how long had she dozed for. It had been light outside when she had made her way to his chamber, _was it nightfall now_?

Feeling lethargically comfortable, the soft furs a welcome feel against her aching thighs, she tried to move once but the pain surging through her lower body warned her otherwise.

The young girl gradually became aware of a warm hand coursing its way through her hair, a touch too tender, carefully unknotting the golden mess. His hand moved in a steady, calming motion that almost lulled her back to sleep.

"Ireyne?" his incessant voice whispered in her ear.

She debated answering him, telling him to 'shut up and come back to sleep, Jon', but thought better of it. Perhaps if she pretended to still be asleep he'd take pity on her; he'd relent to her silent plea and let her sleep where she was.

He chuckled lightly. "I know you aren't asleep, Ireyne."

"Fascinating observation, Jon," she grumbled finally, annoyed to hear him snigger again, "absolutely fascinating."

"As much as I hate myself for saying this -"

"-then don't. Don't say anything, and don't make me hate you. Just keep that pretty mouth shut, please." Ireyne interjected.

She contemplated whether it was impossible for Jon to stop caring about the real world for more than a few moments.

"Ireyne, it's a little past sundown now, your family might start noticing your absence. You really should go now."

 _It most definitely is impossible for him to stop caring about the real world for more than a few moments._

Groaning, Ireyne turned onto her back, rubbing away the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. It took her a while to orient herself to her surroundings once more – she hadn't meant to, but Ireyne had fallen asleep sometime between embracing Jon, as they caught their breath back, and listening to him speak about his plans for the Wall.

Ireyne sat up in his bed gingerly, clutching the furs to her chest tightly as she winced ever so slightly at the soreness between her legs. She noticed Jon perched on his knees beside her position on the bed, hair tousled and tunic wrinkled, looking as thoroughly fatigued as she felt.

"How are you feeling?" his brows were furrowed deeply as he asked her the simple question.

Ireyne smiled, reaching out to grasp Jon's hand. "How are _you_ feeling?"

"Very happy, content, pleased," he listed, moving to sit on the bed so that he could face her better, "satisfied, ecstatic, so on and so forth. I feel as though I've climbed the bloody Wall, conquered the entire world."

She laughed, amused by this cheery Jon she was witnessing. "I think you've only managed to conquer my heart, my love, not the world."

"Aye, and that's far more precious to me than the rest of this shitty world."

Ireyne felt giddy, drunk on joy and love, _him_. She leaned forward to press her lips against his, savoring the now familiar feel of his slightly chapped, moist lips as they kissed her own.

"I don't want to leave," She quietly admitted once they broke apart. She knew their time was short now – how many more such moments could they steal before being forced away by time?

Her heart ached at the prospect of leaving him now. She couldn't leave him, not now when she had come to know him as intimately as she did; not now when he had managed to touch every inch of her skin, marking her as his; not now when she knew that his touch would linger upon her always, _he_ would linger upon her always – a yearning, a dream, a shadow that would be inescapable. "Gods, I love you so much..."

Jon kissed her cheek once, twice, before resting his forehead against hers. His warm breath fanned her face lightly as his hands rubbed her cold ones, and Ireyne could swear it was what heaven felt like.

"I should go," _Ask me to stay_.

Jon's eyes were closed as he breathed, "Just a moment longer."

Ireyne kissed him.

* * *

The stone floor felt strangely cool beneath the soles of her feet as she strolled across the hall towards her own chambers. Her boots were clutched in a hand tightly as the other ran through her hair, trying to smoothen any stray strands – Ireyne tried to ensure she looked presentable enough should she stumble across anyone.

She was sure her lips were swollen red; it had proved to be a highly difficult task for both herself and Jon to extract Ireyne from his bed as they frequently became distracted with one another's hands and mouth.

Eventually though, Ireyne recalled the entire event with a small smirk, they had managed to redress themselves, blushing and stammering awkwardly until realizing how absurd the entire situation was. Ireyne shook her head remembering how much she had laughed then at their own antics, and Jon's equally amused snicker, as she had fastened her cloak over her shoulders.

An old tune made its way to her tongue as she unlocked the door to her chambers.

" _Walking 'neath the sun and moon_  
 _With mourning on his tongue_  
 _Says he shall see her soon_  
 _The maid he'd known so young,"_

Ireyne sang to herself as she bolted the door behind her with a soft thump. Her chambers were well-lit, _Vaera must've relighted the candles, bless her_. Without paying heed to anything around her, Ireyne made her way towards the large featherbed that stood in the center of the room.

" _Without her I am undone_  
 _And the years begin to blur_  
 _Two hearts that beat as one_  
 _And mine beats but for hers."_

"I don't think I've heard you sing since the day those girls made fun of you and you begged Cersei to let you skip singing classes from then onwards," a voice Ireyne knew all too well resonated through her chambers. "what has gotten you in such a delightful mood, dearest sister?"

She didn't have to look at his face to know that Jaime was not jesting. His voice was strained and demanding even if his words were playful.

"Jaime," Ireyne greeted him, noticing him lounging in a chair that was placed directly in front of the fireplace. She berated herself for not noticing his silhouette earlier. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Pouring himself a glass of wine, Jaime gestured to a seat opposite himself. Ireyne chose a spot upon the edge of her bed instead.

Jaime drank deeply from his chalice for a long moment, causing a thunderous silence to boom throughout her chamber. "I was wondering where you were, Ireyne."

She debated her answer, knowing very well that she didn't have enough time to think of one. "And that is why you are here to see me? To wonder where I was?"

"I asked you a simple question, I want a simple answer." Her brother retorted, speaking slowly as though he were talking to a child. Ireyne didn't doubt that that was what he saw her as – a child. "Do not play any games with me."

Ireyne glared at him. She had little chance of escape, she knew, but she would not confess her secret so easily, not now when it meant more to her than anything else.

"Did Cersei send you here? She did, didn't she?" Ireyne questioned him, hoping it would distract her brother enough. "What is it that she has grumbled of this time? Did she tell you how I refused to sit by her every living breathing moment? Or is it that I've been missing prayers each morning? Do you have any idea how frustrating it has been to try and act like a lady who loves stitching and learning how to run household from Lady Stark? Truth be told, I hate all this nonsense that Cersei expects me to do while all she does is lounge away draining barrels of wine!"

Ireyne took a deep breath after her ranting, noticing that Jaime had opted to keep silent through all her frustrated venting, listening to her seethe and absorbing it all in. Like he always did. He nodded slowly and Ireyne wondered what was going on through his brain. She wasn't foolish enough to think he'd stop pestering her to find out where she had been, but perhaps a small conversation about Cersei might yield her extra time to think through her excuse.

Jaime continued to remain tightlipped, however, as he merely drained his chalice of spiced wine. "Cersei did not ask me to talk to you, no. I was here to see you – you've been preoccupied these past few days, Gods know with what. I merely wished to spend some time with you, Ireyne."

"Now," he began again as he set aside his cup. "Let's hear this fabricated story of yours that you unarguably thought of this very instant as you attempted to distract me with unwarranted talk about Cersei."

His eyes narrowed in on hers, daring his youngest sibling to try and divert the conversation any further.

"You can fathom that I do not wish to tell you the truth?" Ireyne countered, knowing it was futile to engage Jaime in anything but whatever he wanted to talk about now, "then you should already know that I will not tell you anything unless I want to."

"And you should know that I have the means to find the definite truth out should you or should you not tell me."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I am merely warning you that in the case of a problematic situation, wherein you refuse to confess the truth, I shall have to employ the King and _Queen's_ services to get to the bottom of all this mess." Jaime clarified. "And I doubt that would make things any easier for you."

Ireyne wanted to weep. She had been confident that her trysts with Jon would remain a secret, a reality that only she would have lived, no one else. But now, hearing Jaime question her, Ireyne's dearest secret was being threatened to be disclosed and she wasn't so fond of the idea.

"I was at the library," she heard herself speak; in a bid to make her fib seem much more genuine, she added, "there is little else to do, I've been reading anything I can find in that ramshackle tower they call the library here."

"The library?" Jaime echoed. "You know, interestingly, the window in my given chambers overlook the library tower – and its stone stairway."

Ireyne felt a bead of sweat crawl down her neck. "As interesting as that aspect may seem to you, I'm afraid I don't recognize its relevance to our conversation."

"Oh I only meant that I saw that Maester – what was his name again, Ludwig? Luwin? – lock its door earlier this morning. Perhaps he was unable to oversee it today, regardless," Jaime smirked, "I'm wondering how exactly you managed to sneak into a locked library."

She wished the earth would open its mouth wide like those monsters in the stories she had listened to as a child, the ones that lurked deep, deep, deep in the sea and wrecked ships and ate men whole. Ireyne desperately wished the ground would just split open and swallow her whole this very moment.

"Yes, well I found that out once I had made my way to the damned tower," Ireyne retorted, unable to stop herself from fabricating further lies. "I walked back from the library when I realized it was shut. That's where I was."

Jaime cocked an eyebrow. "I've been here for quite sometime, Ireyne. Surely it doesn't take as long for you to walk back here."

"I lost my way."

"The Guest Chambers are merely a handful of feet away from the library tower. Whatever did you get lost for?"

"I just wanted to roam around for a while," Ireyne replied, raking her mind to come up with a justifiable reasoning. "I'm tired of being confined to my chambers all day."

"You only said days ago that you hated this castle and liked the solitude these chambers provided. Didn't you say that, or did I misunderstand you?"

"I had a change of heart."

"A 'change of heart'?" Jaime repeated her words. "And where did this 'change of heart' lead you?"

"Nowhere significant."

"But somewhere, nonetheless" he debated. "Where?"

Under his burning gaze, Ireyne couldn't think properly and therefore blurted the first place that came to her mind – the place she had actually been returning from. "The Great Keep."

Jaime's expression changed, moving from curious to cautious. "What were you in the main Stark household for?"

"I told you, I wasn't up to anything. I only wanted to return the book I had borrowed, lest I forget to do so later," Ireyne insisted, wiping a finger across her upper lip only to find it covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Jaime got up from his position in front of the fireplace. "And who did you return it to?" He walked in slow, strong strides, glaring at his sister unceasingly. The warm chambers now felt unbearably hot, as though its heat would melt her skin any moment, scorch her soul, tarnish her existence.

She hoped that it would.

With every step that her brother took towards her, with every inch of disappearing space between them, Ireyne felt increasingly anxious – a monstrous fear clawed at her heart with brutish abandon, bruising her nerves and shattering her poise.

She flung her golden hair over her shoulder. "Does it even matter?"

"Certainly, to me it does."

"You are being ridiculous, Jaime." Ireyne argued, praying with all her might to the Seven to spare her from the impending confession.

"Am I?" Jaime's gaze flickered away from her eyes for an infinitesimal moment before meeting them once more, wider, angrier this time.

"Yes! I am telling you the truth: there is nothing to know!" she insisted, nearly yelling now.

"You see that?" Jaime gritted his teeth as he spoke in a taut voice, a finger raised to point at a particular point upon her pale throat. "That red blotch on your neck begs a different tale, Ireyne."

Her face drained of all color at his words. Her heart seemed to halt for a long stretch of a moment, leaving her feeling numb and emotionless.

Ireyne was mortified.

"Jaime, I..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. Raising a finger, she tried to locate where Jaime had been pointing, where Jon had left a mark.

"It's exactly below your right ear, Ireyne," Jaime's words caused Ireyne's face to turn an even brighter red. She wants to say something but can't find the right words anymore.

She hadn't even realized when she'd begun crying but then Jaime's alarmed face swarmed in front of her blurry vision, coaxing Ireyne to 'calm down' and assuring her that 'everything will be alright, sweet'.

When she finally caught her breath again and stopped weeping, Ireyne noticed Jaime sitting next to her on the bed, his face contorted with concern and confusion. And when he spoke again, his voice hinted at just how worried he was about her.

"Who were you with, Ireyne? Who did this to you? Did someone..." he trailed off, hesitant and unsure. Upon Ireyne's questioning glance, he elaborated, "Did someone force themselves upon you? If that is the case, I swear upon the Seven, I will strangle the little fucker myself, Ireyne. Just tell me who -"

"I came in _singing_ to myself," Ireyne sobbed, simultaneously irritated and exhausted, "do you think I would be singing if something so awful had happened to me?"

Her brother's expression of dawning realization was enough for Ireyne to comprehend that he had guessed all there was to know, almost all.

"Who were you - who is this boy?"

Ireyne refused to meet Jaime's eyes. "Someone, he's nice that's all you need to know."

"Ireyne," he huffed exasperatedly. "I'm going to know more than that if I am to keep quiet about all this. I can't just let you wander around with some boy like this, doing... well, whatever it is you were doing."

Ireyne wanted to melt to the ground, seep through the stone floor and leach into the soil where no man could ever find her again. She wondered how things had gone so terribly wrong today, why couldn't everyone just leave her alone? And why, oh why, did Jaime have to know what she had just done with Jon? _Gods_...

"Was it some stable boy? Some blacksmith? That ward of Ned Stark? That one's an asshole, I can see it in his face. You cannot possibly-"

"It wasn't him, Jaime, please!" Ireyne begged him to stop. She could feel her hands quiver, her heartbeat quicken. _Jaime's never going to understand should I tell him about Jon_ , she thought miserably.

When Jaime continued asking her questions, each more absurd than the previous one, Ireyne gathered any last remnants of courage she could find.

"If I tell you who I was with, you promise to not tell anyone?"

She met Jaime's eyes to see uncertainty reflected in them; Ireyne couldn't risk telling him anything unless she was sure he would keep her secret. He seemed to deliberate her plea for the longest while, finally settling upon nodding his head to show his agreement.

"No. Say it out loud – tell me that you will not mention a word to anyone, _anyone_ , if I tell you the truth," Ireyne insisted. She couldn't endure his pestering any longer and she acknowledged that there was scarcely anything she could do now to guard her secret.

The least she could do, nevertheless, was demand a guarantee for secrecy, "I want your word, Jaime Lannister."

If he was annoyed at her, the man in question didn't show it. On the contrary, if Ireyne didn't know better, she would've thought he looked mildly impressed.

"Alright," he conceded, "I will not mention a word to anyone else if I think that there is no need for me to take any action."

Ireyne begrudgingly agreed to his condition; Jaime seemed intent on knowing who she had been with, clearly, "Ireyne, for the last time, I am asking you who-"

"Jon!" she cried out at long last, "I was with Jon Snow! No one else, just him, only him, Jon. Gods, its just Jon – Jon, I. I never..." she mumbled incoherently, feeling panic and grief leach her of any joy she had felt earlier.

After what might have been centuries, Jaime spoke again, each word carefully uttered as though it caused him physical pain to say them. "You like a bastard boy?"

Ireyne sniffed gloomily yet her voice sounded clear and confident to her own ears, "I _love_ a bastard boy. There's a difference."

Jaime laughed, he _laughed_. "And you think its alright for you to be in love with a bastard? Have you ever thought about how mismatched you two are? How father will never agree to any of this horseshit? What were you thinking?!"

Ireyne watched him pace the floor in angry strides, running his hand through his hair, agitated.

"He's going to the Wall, taking the black." Ireyne explained, "I won't see him after we leave Winterfell, and no one has to know anything."

"And? You love him! Who's to say you won't do anything stupid, like running away or, or asking father to stay here or, fuck it, I don't know! There is an innumerable amount of stupid possibilities for you to choose from."

Ireyne sighed heavily. "I will not do anything like that. Trust me. I love him, really, but we agreed to part ways should the time come and I will do just that. But until the time comes, I want to know..."

"Know what?" Jaime inquired, his eyes wide.

"I want to know what its like to be in love, to love someone, before Father gets me married to some idiot he thinks will bring him power."

Her words caused Jaime to still – he looked torn between wanting to console her and scold her. Ultimately, Jaime just resorted to staring at her with incredulous eyes.

"I didn't know you could be so dimwitted," he finally said. "Do you have any idea who you're saying you are in love with? How could you possibly... Gods, Ireyne? Love isn't a game you play, you... Fucking hell, it's all so _wrong_!"

His words reverberated in her mind, over and over and over and over again. She was trembling faintly, though Ireyne was not cold anymore. Where moments ago she sat terrified and anxious, Ireyne could now feel her rage bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. She got to her feet unsteadily, and made her way towards her brother – the one brother who had no right to reprimand her about who she could and could not fall in love with.

Ireyne met his eyes defiantly once she got close enough, _he has no right to admonish me about what is right and what is wrong_.

"We love whom we love, Jaime" Ireyne hissed vehemently. "We love whom we love."

* * *

 **(END NOTES)**

Thank you to whoever commented/reviewed the previous chapters! I'm so happy to read them and they always put a smile on my face.

Love you guys!


	19. Seven Hells!

**_"And he looked at her_**  
 ** _and caught her eyes_**  
 ** _and said:_**  
 ** _i love you dear_**  
 ** _so very madly."_**  
 **— Atticus**

* * *

 **CASCADING** over her shoulders in heavenly waves, the hot water rinsed away any last traces of fatigue that might have still afflicted Ireyne. She inhaled deeply, the soothing scent of lavender surrounding her senses; a soft sigh escaped her lips as her eyes shut in relief. Vaera began washing her hair with nimble fingers, pulling the golden mass over the edge of the tub for ease.

The past few days had been beyond wonderful for Ireyne, like a dream, like a life not her own – she felt as if her time with Jon had been stolen out of a book, a ballad, for it felt all too pure and blissful to be real. _Oh but it is real_ , Ireyne smiled giddily, remembering Jon's secret smiles and his soft touches that morning as they'd laid in bed talking about whatnot. She was certain it was all real, and not a hallucination, because no mind, no matter how astute, could conjure such a sweet dream.

The young girl sighed and shifted slightly when she felt Vaera rinse the floral soap that she'd been lathering in Ireyne's hair.

If Ireyne's handmaiden had noticed any unusual bruises and blotches along her neck, her shoulders, or even her thighs, she didn't mention them, and Ireyne was much too grateful for this tactful ignorance on Vaera's behalf. Whatever happened between her and Jon was her very own secret, her own heaven that she didn't want disrupted by prying eyes and opinions.

"I added lavender in your bath today, my lady," Vaera began in a quiet voice; Ireyne wished she hadn't talked, "to help with any...soreness," her handmaiden finished explaining hesitantly.

Ireyne wondered whether drowning herself in a bathtub was a dignified enough manner to die.

"Very well," the embarrassed girl muttered. Before Vaera could say another word, however, Ireyne continued, "I can finish bathing now, Vaera. I want to be alone for a while – I'll send for you when I'm done."

Her handmaiden nodded her understanding and bustled around for a short while, arranging anything Ireyne might need on a small footstool beside the tub before swiftly leaving the chambers. Ireyne rested her head upon the edge of the steaming tub when she heard the door shut.

 _Vaera know, and so does Jaime_ , Ireyne determined silently, counting the number of people aware about her relationship with Jon. _Jon has told Robb Stark,_ _and_ _Cersei may know something too, although I'm not certain how or to what extent_.

Ireyne thought back to how difficult it had been to convince Jaime to remain silent – he had been adamant on putting an end to whatever it was between her and Jon. Jaime had resolutely ignored anything she said until she reminded him that Jon was to take the black, and that she _had_ to go back South eventually.

Although, it was only after Ireyne had, rather embarrassedly, assured her brother that she had never overstepped any boundaries with Jon that Jaime had relented. He hadn't specified what the boundaries were, so Ireyne presumed everything she had done with Jon was well within limits so far.

Nonetheless, convincing Jaime had proved to be an awfully difficult task, and if Jaime had reacted the way he had, Ireyne recoiled envisioning the reactions the rest of her family might have should they find out the entire truth.

She didn't know how long she had spent in her bath, but it was Vaera's small cry of "are you alright, my lady?" from behind the closed door that finally broke Ireyne out from her reverie and prompted her to finish getting dressed for the day.

* * *

Jon yawned again as he agitatedly stood behind the anvil upon which Mikken had been striking the thin sword into shape for what seemed like days now. He wondered if Ireyne was as drowsy as he felt right now; he hadn't asked her because it had been his idea after all, to stay awake all night talking and – Jon blushed despite how hard he tried not to.

She was like wine, sparkling and addicting; he was drunk on her – her smiles, her eager voice, her rambling, the blush that tainted her pale skin under his gaze, the quiet moans, and the sweet feel of her – and he wondered when exactly had she managed to become so integral to his existence. It also didn't escape Jon's notice that he was due North, to the Wall, in a matter of days, and that meant he'd have to say goodbye to Ireyne.

 _Gods only know when I'd see Ireyne again, if ever_ , he thought gloomily, unconsciously twirling the small leather package held in his hand that felt like a sack of rocks, when it weighed next to nothing in reality. He wondered if it was the right thing to do – ask the new lad working in the armory to craft this.

"This seem alright to you, huh?" the blacksmith asked Jon, holding aloft the skinniest sword Jon had ever seen.

Jon nodded. "Aye, looks fine to me,"

The blacksmith began polishing the thin iron blade skillfully as Jon kept his eyes trained upon the now gleaming sword, his thoughts on a different path now. _I hope it's fitting for Arya_ , Jon prayed silently. He hadn't a gift for any of his other siblings, but Arya wasn't any other sibling – he loved the wild little soul more than he admitted, and he had to give her something before he left for who knew when he'd see her again. He wondered what the future held for them all, what it held for him now, but Jon didn't get to ponder the question for long.

"A sword for the wall?" A rich voice spoke behind him.

Jon had the answer on his tongue even before he glanced over his shoulder to come face to face with the Kingslayer. "I already have one."

"Good man," Jaime Lannister stated. His green eyes were narrowed upon Jon's face, a disdainfully curious expression marking his handsome face. "Have you swung it yet?"

"'Course I have," Jon answered with a small, confused smile.

"At someone, I mean?" Jaime clarified the meaning of his earlier question. The smile slipping off Jon's face told Jaime all he needed to know. Taking a step closer, Jaime shrugged casually, "Strange thing, the first time you cut a man."

Jon's expression gave little away; he stood there listening to the Kingslayer's words with rapt attention.

"You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat and blood, and some bone to keep it all standing." Jaime said in a relatively matter-of-fact tone as he sized the bastard in front of him, wondering what it was about this young man that had his sister so besotted.

"Let me thank you ahead of time for guarding us all from the perils beyond the Wall," Jaime expressed his mock-appreciation, grasping Jon's hand in a firm shake, "wildlings and whitewalkers and whatnot."

Jon didn't miss the jeering tone lacing the Kingslayer's words. "We've protected the Wall for 8,000 years," Jon stated in his defense as Jaime began retracting his steps.

"Is it "we" already?" Jaime questioned, glancing back. "Have you taken your vows, then?"

"Soon enough."

Jaime nearly scowled, "explains a lot."

"My lord?"

"Before you have to join the, ah, magnificent force of the Night's Watch, enjoy your last few days at home," Jaime advised him, his eyes narrowed, adding in spite of himself, "then again, I believe you already are doing just that."

Jon didn't know what to make of these words, his mind straying to possibilities that made his very core shiver in anxiety. _Does he know_ , Jon wondered silently. The thought of Jaime Lannister knowing that Jon had been courting the youngest Lannister made Jon highly uncomfortable.

The Kingslayer remained quiet for a long moment, simply observing the boy in front of him.

"Anyhow," at long last Jaime spoke, sneering, "Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not," he laughed contemptuously, "it's only for life".

* * *

The great oak tables were laden with so much food that Ireyne was amazed the ancient furniture was still standing. Roast pheasants lined the spread as bowls of gravy and stewed vegetable dotted the table. Tankards of ale and wine were being passed around as the entire Stark household and the King's entourage feasted together.

Ireyne took a bite from her own portion of meat and gravy, savoring the smoky, rich taste of the pheasant as she wondered what the occasion was. To her, it seemed bizarre to have such an elaborate supper when the Stark boy, _Bran_ , she recalled, was still comatose, although the maesters had said he would live. Glancing sideways, she noted the heavy bags under Catelyn Stark's eyes and a slouched form that marked where Lord Eddard was sat – their entire family looked anxious, and was barely taking part in the merriments of the evening.

"Could you pass me the honey cakes?" A high-pitched voice sounded in Ireyne's ear. She turned sideways, her eyebrows raised, only to notice Arya Stark gesturing towards the plate of cakes.

"Arya!" Sansa growled from beside her. She glared at her younger sister for a moment before Arya turned back to Ireyne and added politely, "please?"

Ireyne took in a small breath, nodding curtly as she passed the plate of honey cakes to the little girl. Chewing slowly on a mouthful of potatoes, Ireyne surveyed the room at large, looking for a pair of familiar eyes. She found him, at last, seated in the far right corner as he spoke to some boy she didn't know.

As though he'd felt her gaze upon him, Jon turned around to meet her curious stare, blanching a little when she winked at him ever so subtly. Ireyne coughed lightly to hide her laugh at his reactions. She continued taking small bites of her portion of pheasant as her ears focused on the incessant bickering between Sansa and Arya – they were fighting over a missing ribbon which, according to Sansa, had apparently been stolen by her little sister.

A loud banging drew Ireyne's attention away from her wearisome supper, prompting her to search for its source. She found her answer soon enough as she spotted King Robert standing in his place, a few seats away from her. He took a large swig from his chalice, no doubt draining the remaining of his wine, before clearing his throat to address the gathering, all of whom had their attention focused on the King.

"Now that I have been here for so long, and drunk so much of your ale, I don't think I shall be able to live drinking that weak wine they have down South!" Robert laughed; few people laughed with him. "But I don't suppose the best things in life last forever, eh Ned?" he roared, taking another swig from his chalice.

Ireyne felt a lump rise in her throat, a shiver down her spine, a flicker of unease that she couldn't place why. She simply stared at the chopped carrots and peas in her plate as she listened to Robert's words with rapt attention unlike ever before.

"Well, as generous as you and your family have been, and as much as I have relished my time here, in Winterfell, I am sorry to realize that I must leave eventually – a king I am, and a kingdom I have to rule, can't stay here drinking ale and hunting forever, can I?" stated Robert. Ned Stark smiled weekly whereas Catelyn Stark maintained a stoic face that could rival Cersei's.

"My family and I shall leave for the Crownlands within the next few days. And you, Ned," Robert gestured towards the Stark patriarch, "you shall accompany me as my new Hand, so that I can hunt and drink myself to my grave!" the King exclaimed with a snicker, unaware that a young girl, seated along the same table as him, was on the verge of tears upon hearing his announcement.

 _We're going back, I'm going back. I'm leaving, leaving Jon_ , Ireyne realized dejectedly.

The King went on to say a few words about Ned Stark becoming the new Hand, Bran Stark's unfortunate fall, his admiration for the North, so on and so forth, but none of it made much sense to Ireyne who sat breathing heavily, trying to control her rebellious tears from falling. She glanced upwards, towards the back corner of the Hall, where _he_ sat; teary green eyes met glum grey ones.

Jon's attention was focused on her, his gaze increasing Ireyne's heartrate as she wondered if he felt any fraction of the panic she was currently feeling. Her heart twisted and sunk as she watched him watch her; her heart screamed its disapproval, pleaded the Gods to cease time, here and now, so that she may live with Jon by her side for all eternity.

And yet, for all her emotions be damned, Ireyne could no longer turn her face away from the reality that had been ever-present since that fateful night when she had stumbled upon Jon in the courtyard: She was going back South.

The time had finally come for her and Jon to walk on different paths now.

* * *

 **REVIEW REPLIES:**

 **Guest said:** _JAMIE NEEDS TO BE SMACKED! He has no right to say anything to Ireyne when he's not only banging a married woman but his own sister! Btw, Jamie, did you forget that Ireyne for all rights and purposes is a bastard, she was just legitimized unlike Jon!_

— Thanks for the review! Although, I must clarify that Ireyne is **NOT** 'for all rights and purposes' as bastard. She is the trueborn daughter of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, making her a highborn lady. I'm confused as to why you thought so...


	20. Starry Eyed

**_"She stared at the stars_**  
 ** _like they were pillows for her mind,_**  
 ** _and in their light_**  
 ** _she could rest her heavy head."_**  
\- Christopher Poindexter

* * *

 **WINDS** were never this cold in King's Landing – at least not as far as Ireyne could remember. It was always warm there, but never too much; the weather there was as close to perfect as it could be. King's Landing was also far more scenic – with its blooming gardens, painted in a riot of colors, and shimmering blue waters, it wasn't difficult to imagine why Aegon the Conqueror had chosen the lands of King's Landing as home to the Iron Throne. It was a majestic land. It was home to all the luxuries befitting a King, and then some. King's Landing is good; it is superior in every which way; it flatters someone like her, Ireyne. And yet, the mention of the place hadn't sparked an instant's worth of joy in Ireyne's heart.

As soon as supper had ended, Ireyne found excusing herself from the Hall, unaware of the knowing glance that Jaime shot her, or the displeased sneer on Cersei's face. She ignored the melancholy smile Robb offered her, and looked past Tyrion's questioning brow as she glided across the Hall and hurried into the cool air outside.

Taking in huge gulps of air, she tried calming her burning nerves. Her efforts were futile. Ireyne finally resorted to simply observing the puffs of mist that formed in the air in front of her as she panted breathlessly; she saw the warm cloud collate briefly, then saw it disperse. _Like us, like me and Jon_ , she speculated.

She shivered slightly as her linen and brocade gown wasn't enough to shield her from the chill that the Northern winds carried. _I'll be warm South_ , Ireyne thought dejectedly as she paced the empty courtyard. She could hear the chatter from inside, the scraping of chairs upon the stone floor and the clanking of silverware on plates. Soon enough, she heard footsteps, their sound growing louder by each passing second.

As the rest of the guests and household members filed out of the Great Hall, Ireyne's eyes searched for the familiar head of dark, curly hair. Several men passed her, laughing and stumbling their way around, as she stood silently on the sidelines, half hidden by the shadows.

She spotted the King, and Cersei, and Joffrey, walking away from the crowd, towards their chambers no doubt. She also noticed Sansa and Lady Catelyn amidst the crowd filtering into the courtyard – they talked in low voices as they too made their way around – the moonlight making their auburn hair seem akin to a flame amidst the darkened yard. Ser Rodrick glanced at her, surprised at seeing her stand still, before bobowingwed his head in greeting as he passed the shivering girl; Jory Cassel followed suit. Men belonging to the the King's entourage stared at her and then greeted her as well, though she remained habitually tightlipped around them.

The crowd thinned eventually, but Ireyne still hadn't sighted Jon. She deliberated waiting out in the courtyard longer, and she would have bared the cold a little longer had it not been for the fact that Jaime had emerged from the Hall as well. She knew he wouldn't take to the idea of her awaiting Jon outside, and she didn't want any prying eyes around them as it were.

She wandered around the guest chambers, past the library, the armory. Her mind was still whirring loudly, making her head ache terribly. She considered going back to her chambers, but thought better of it; she needed peace.

* * *

 **MARCHING** past the rusty, wrought iron gates of the Godswood, Ireyne took in the painting that the majestic woods presented: at night, in the tender hands of moonlight, the Godswood seemed nothing more than a mysteriously intricate weaving of shadows and silhouettes and smoky mist. Gone were the reds and oranges and greens that screamed at her during broad daylight, only to be replaced by black and brown and grey. The occasional white flowers seemingly glowed amidst the dark forest, much like the stars that shimmered in the inky sky above.

For a while, Ireyne simply absorbed her surroundings. She felt as though she had fallen off the earth and was floating in the wide, uncertain abyss they called the sky. Perhaps it was fitting then, for her to be in a place whose darkness and indefiniteness seemed to equal her own sentiments currently.

She didn't know where to go, never having been in the Godswood this late. Nevertheless, she slowly strolled forward, hearing the twigs and dried leaves crunch and wail under her footsteps as she tried to find her way around. The faint sounds of the Stark direwolves howling distantly reached her ears, mingling with the incessant sound of the rushing winds; the earthy scent of moss filled her nose; the thick haze surrounding her made it difficult for the youngest Lannister to see much ahead.

"Ah!", Ireyne yelped when she felt something wet upon her hand. Glancing downwards, Ireyne found herself face to face with a snowy wolf, eyes burning red. _Ghost_.

With a jolt, Ireyne realized that the last time she had seen the direwolf alone had been in the Godswood itself, and she had wounded the animal with a blade out of fear that one time. Over her short time with Jon, Ireyne had been around Ghost a dozen times, but she had never considered asking Jon whether or not his pup had taken a liking to her as well. _I hope he has_ , Ireyne prayed silently as she fixed her gaze upon the wolf's snout, _I doubt this'll end well otherwise_.

To her surprise, the direwolf merely padded away as stealthily as he had come. She knew for a fact that the direwolves had to be locked away for as long as the King and his companions were residing at Winterfell. The sight of the bright wolf retreating urged an idea into Ireyne's mind that she could hardly resist. She wondered if he was here too, if he had slipped away from the crowds to seek silence here... Ireyne had to know.

She hastily followed the wolf where it had disappeared. She walked uncertainly deeper into the woods, each moment making her realize how futile of an attempt this was. There had to be no reason for him to be here, and all she'd do by walking further is loose herself in this darkened maze. Just as Ireyne was about to turn back, she heard a voice call out her name.

Even without seeing the source of the voice, his name was on her tongue. "Jon?"

"Aye, where are you?" his voice sounded from nearby, "Just stay wherever you are, I'll find my way."

She stayed where she stood.

After several moments of twigs breaking, leaves crunching, and footsteps echoing, Ireyne sighted Jon emerging from behind an ancient oak tree. She marveled at how he knew his way around in such black stillness, but couldn't she find her way around the Red Keep in darkness too?

She watched his approaching form with an inexplicable hunger, a desperate need to memorize the way his shoulders slouched, the way he held his fists by his side, the long and steady paces he took – she wanted to memorize _him_ , so that she may never forget what it was like to see him, know him, love him.

"Ireyne?" Jon huffed, "Why are you out here now? It's freezing."

"I could ask you the same," she retorted, searching his stormy eyes for an answer.

"I wanted some quiet."

"So did I."

He simply watched her for what felt like an eternity. Ireyne shifted a little under his scrutinizing gaze, unsure where they stood now. Had the realization that they were bound to part ways sooner than ever before torn them apart already? Did Jon no longer wish to see her? A small part of her knew it all to be false, knew Jon would _never_ , but a larger part of her was much too emotionally exhausted to think rationally.

When Jon held out a hand towards her, Ireyne placed her own in his without any question. In silent agreement, the two walked around the Godswood as Jon led her towards the narrow lake. He didn't say much; neither did Ireyne.

They sat quietly, upon larger rocks that surrounded the shallow waters, huddled close enough so that their knees touched even though neither showed much affection otherwise. The faint howls of the direwolves and the rustling of the leaves was the only sound heard for a long, long moment.

Eventually, having heard enough of the deafening silence, Ireyne began speaking. "I suppose we are just going to sit here and pretend that young Baron spilling a tankard of ale down a Lannister soldier was the most unexpected thing to have happened at supper tonight?"

Jon laughed quietly. "I thought the most unexpected thing was you eating pheasant tonight without starting a bloody riot," he teased, recalling how picky she was about the foods she enjoyed – and pheasant was not one of them.

"I was being the courteous guest."

"I could see how much effort that took," he smiled lopsidedly; at her questioning glance, he added, "3 glasses of wine to chew a portion of pheasant and peas?"

Ireyne's eyes widened, "it isn't very polite to measure how much a lady drinks, Jon Snow."

"A lady doesn't drink much."

"Male misconception."

Ireyne attempted to glare at him for as long as she could, but failed at the sight of his barely contained laughter. She let herself laugh then, hearing his cheerful tone mingle with hers.

"I really, really dislike pheasant!" Ireyne wiped her tears hastily as her laughter dwindled slowly.

Jon braced his arms on his knees. "I know. I don't like it much either." He stayed silent for a beat before adding, "The King's announcement, on the other hand, was not unexpected."

That erased any hint of lingering amusement in Ireyne's heart. She turned her face away from Jon as she stared at the still waters of the inky black lake. She didn't even know what to say – Jon was right; the King's announcement had not been unforeseen.

Ireyne hummed her agreement. "So this is it then? You and I, we just..."

She couldn't finish her sentence.

Jon glanced at her, his grey eyes trained in on her green ones. "I suppose it is..." he seemed to hesitate too before adding, "the end."

She knew it as well as he did, but hearing him say it was a lot worse than she had anticipated. Ireyne didn't even bother hiding her tears anymore. She couldn't. She didn't know why she had burst into tears, but she had. They flowed down her cheeks, warm and terrible, leaving a trace of her misery behind.

"Hey," Jon whispered, "Ireyne?"

"What?", Ireyne snapped.

"I love you," he muttered softly in his gruff Northern accent as he wiped her traitorous tears, "and I'll always love you, no matter what."

Ireyne leaned into his touch. "I wish it didn't have to end."

"Me too," Jon rested his forehead against hers.

They stayed still for a moment, his warm breath fanning her face as she reached out to touch his face. He closed his eyes at her touch, and she shut hers too. Ultimately, she withdrew from their position, wracking her brains to say something, anything, to redirect the conversation and stop her heart from aching so much.

"What are you going to do? At the Wall?"

Jon cleared his throat. "I don't know. Might be a ranger? I'd like that, man the wall, defend it, go on scouting missions."

Ireyne wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeves as she smiled coyly, "You just want to go on 'scouting missions' to find girls".

Jon shook his head in disbelief, although he grinned. "I don't think there are going to be much opportunities with girls that far North," he reassured her.

Jon saw her dimples emerge as she remarked, "They'll flock from far and wide to admire your beauty."

"A sad waste of time then, coming to see a man sworn off women."

"You can't stop women from being optimistic."

"As I said, they'll find nothing but disappointment then." He said it lightly but honestly. Jon knew that he'd have no other woman in his life after Ireyne, he couldn't have anyone else even if he wished to.

Still, Ireyne's curious gaze had him worried he'd said something wrong. Reaching out to grasp her hand, Jon entwined their fingers, "Ireyne?"

"You really are a peculiar man, Jon Snow."

He didn't understand her meaning. She seemed to comprehend as much too, for she continued, "You really think every man, who swears oaths of celibacy, keeps such promises?"

Jon's look of surprise and disbelief gave her her answer. Ireyne shook her head lightly, "You are so decent, and sincere, you think every man in this world is equally honorable... No one is like that, ever."

"So you think I'm stupid?" Jon demanded.

Ireyne wondered what she could say to him – as much as she'd gotten to know him, Ireyne had realized how utterly honest to the core Jon was, how sincere and truthful he was. But she knew many others weren't like this, had heard stories from Cersei and Jaime and Tyrion and even her father – most men were not as honest as Jon. Perhaps that was what attracted her to him.

"A little," she admitted finally. Turning to face him properly, she reached out and tenderly stroked his jaw, feeling the rough stubble under her fingertips, "but that's perhaps why I love you so."

Jon smiled in spite of himself. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Ireyne Lannister."

"It gets me into your bed, Jon Snow," Ireyne smirked playfully, adoring the dumbstruck look on his face and the accompanying blush upon his cheeks, "so I think flattery works extremely well indeed."

Whether it was because he wanted to kiss her, or because he wanted hide his embarrassment – Ireyne felt it was the latter – Jon leaned forward and captured her lips with his. She sighed into the kiss as she locked her hands behind his neck as she had done so uncountable times already.

Ireyne relished the feel of Jon's hot kisses, ones that managed to warm her inside out, knowing that they had just a few, measured moments left together; Ireyne was determined to memorize how his mouth tasted like ale or how his hands felt heavy upon her waist as he continued kissing her into oblivion.

* * *

Ireyne sighed softly as Vaera unlaced her tightly knotted bodice, before she began preparing Ireyne's nightclothes. Ireyne sat at the edge of her bed, feet dangling just slightly above the ground, as she uninterestedly watched Vaera bustle about the room.

Ireyne felt tired, so tired as though she might have run a hundred leagues today. She wondered if stress and sadness could be strong enough to make one feel fatigued to the core? _Assumedly yes_ , judging by how it was even a task for Ireyne to move from her bed in order to change into her nightgown.

"You alright, my lady?" Vaera inquired, observing Ireyne's sluggish movements.

"Hmm?" Ireyne glanced at her handmaiden as she slipped into her cotton shift. "Oh, yes, yes I'm fine, Vaera. Just tired."

Vaera's brows furrowed. "You've been feeling tired for a few days now, my lady. Are you ill? Shall I fetch the maester?"

Ireyne clicked her tongue, "I said I'm fine – just tired. Is there really a need to pester me with such questions?", she glared at Vaera, snapping unnecessarily. Just a while ago, she had happily kissed Jon goodbye for the night, and then just moment ago she had moodily been sitting upon her bed, and now she felt anger that could rival Robert Baratheon and Cersei's combined. "If I need to see a measter, I shall do so myself. You need not worry."

Vaera stared at Ireyne in shock. Ireyne felt herself becoming irked further by this action. "Vaera! I said I'm fine, just let me be!"

Her handmaiden nodded hastily and bustled around the chamber, pulling back the furs and beginning to blow out the candles. Ireyne felt her anger and annoyance pound through her veins with an ungodly force; she halted Vaera in her steps and asked her to leave.

"I'll just finish readying your -" began Vaera only to be cut off by Ireyne once more.

"There is no need for any of whatever you were going to do," Ireyne stated in a low voice, her green eyes narrowed dangerously. "I just need to be alone. _Now_. So kindly leave – don't make me ask you again."

Her handmaiden practically fled the chambers then, shutting the door behind her with a soft thump. Ireyne rubbed her temples desperately, hoping to ease the throbbing ache. She pulled her hair down from the complicated braid Vaera had done for her that morning, and blew out the rest of the candles.

She stopped by the window on her way back to her bed, staring out at the wide black sky and the far and few twinkling stars. A heavy mist had descended outside, obscuring her view of the surrounding moors and beyond. Ireyne almost laughed to herself at the absurdity of it all – her miserable situation, the complimenting gloomy weather... it was as though the earth itself was aware of the pain she held in her heart, a pain that seemed to grow with each passing hour.

As Ireyne moved away from the window and laid down in her bed, tucking herself underneath the heavy pile of furs, she doubted if her heart would ache any less one day, if the growing pain would ever stop diffusing itself throughout her body? She didn't know the answers to her own questions yet but she could only desperately hope for a better tomorrow as she lulled herself to sleep, ignoring the small trickle of tears that escaped from the corner of her eyes.

* * *

 **END NOTES:**

I know this chapter was slow and all, and I really wanted to move things along. Originally, this was going to be the chapter where they said goodbye but it seemed to soon and sad - but I also thought it'd be weird if they didn't talk after the King Oaf's announcement.

Also, thank you - THANK YOU - to whoever has been commenting on SS so far and so routinely, I can never thank you babes enough: you guys are the reason I keep writing this fic.

Until next time, cheers!

\- Elaine :)


	21. Farewell

**_"We had no ending,_**  
 ** _no said goodbye._**  
 ** _For all my life,_**  
 ** _I'll wonder why."_**

* * *

 **AGONY**. That was the only word Ireyne could think of to describe her last few days at Winterfell. Each day, she would break her fast in the Great Hall, sometimes with a few Starks but mostly with her own kin, pray in the small sept that Winterfell offered, and return to her chambers where she would either observe Vaera pack her belongings, or count down the moments until she'd see Jon again.

It was a tedious set up - Ireyne would sometimes nearly laugh at how their situation now mimicked that of her first days here, when she and Jon had been absolute strangers, bound by a fragile thread of intrigue yet separated by a sturdy barrier of status. It amazed her, still, even now, after days of having been acquainted with him so intimately, how they both had drifted towards each other so soon, so urgently, so passionately.

The golden haired girl wandered aimlessly around her chambers. She wondered what King's Landing would feel like now, what her days would be like without Jon, what she would face once she went back. Her own thoughts were enough to make her feel lightheaded, like the room was closing in on her, desperate to crush her soul and turn her bones to dust.

Ireyne shook her head restlessly, reaching the small table in the center of her chambers to pour herself a cup of water. She stood there, a hand braced on the wooden table, as she drank deeply from her cup, willing her anxious mind to unwind.

"Something bothering you?" a deep yet jovial voice floated in from the doorway, a voice she hadn't heard much over the past few weeks. Ireyne didn't need to look over her shoulder to know who it was.

"Yes – you are."

"How could a man of such enjoyable company possibly be bothersome?"

Ireyne smiled to herself as she placed the glass vessel down with a soft clink. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tyrion silently asking her permission to enter the room. At Ireyne's nod, he made his way towards the pair of chairs in front of the fireplace. "Might I ask why exactly are you gracing me with your presence, Tyrion?"

Tyrion raised his brows. "So you admit that my company is enjoyable?"

"Either your ears aren't functioning properly, or you've lost capability to understand my words," Ireyne answered him, taking the seat opposite her brother. "Nevertheless, it is nice to see you alive and well,"

"Much to our Father's dismay," Tyrion only half-joked, "he would've been much happier had I just frozen myself to death here."

"Strange, I always had the impression that you never cared much for Father's happiness."

"And nor he for mine. It is a mutual sentiment, you see," her brother countered with a bright smile yet Ireyne could see the subtle anger underneath. Evidently, Tyrion wasn't done talking yet for he continued, "which is probably why he wouldn't be the least bit bothered should I not return home immediately."

Ireyne's brows knitted in confusion. "And what is that supposed to imply?"

"It implies, dear sister, that I won't be accompanying this fabulous entourage back to King's Landing."

"Then where will you be going?" asked Ireyne, thoroughly bewildered as to what Tyrion had planned for himself.

"North." He stated brightly. "As far North as North goes, or at least as North as we humans can go."

Ireyne now had an inkling of where Tyrion's detour was leading him, but she was unsure all the same. Under her persistently questioning stare, Tyrion eventually disclosed his plan. "I am going to go and witness the most wondrous monstrosity ever built by mankind – the bloody ice Wall."

"Oh."

Ireyne found herself unable to say much else. The Wall had been brought up a number of times in her conversations with Jon; she resented the Wall now. Why her brother wanted to go see such a structure was beyond her – from what she had heard and read, the Wall was a colossal mass of ice that was so high one could get a crick in the neck just from staring up at it. But perhaps that was the appeal?

"You are very unusually quiet."

Ireyne realized belatedly that she hadn't responded to Tyrion yet who was waiting for her reaction to the news. "I'm just wondering how you'll get there all by yourself," she answered him slowly.

"Not 'all by myself' actually," Tyrion clarified, "Ned Stark's bastard is, if you haven't heard, joining the Night's Watch, leaving with his uncle the day we do too."

Ireyne stiffened.

"I shall accompany them to the Wall, stay there a while, and then, unfortunately, return back to King's Landing."

"I see," she nodded, "very well. Safe travels then, I suppose?"

Tyrion observed Ireyne silently, only nodding his head in acknowledgment of her words. He noticed the way her hands suddenly began fidgeting with the silk of her skirt, saw her face drain itself of color, noted her green eyes staring into the fire broodingly. It reminded him of how, when she was a child of no more than ten, Ireyne would sullenly sit upon the steps of the gardens at the Red Keep whenever things refused to happen the way she had willed. She would sit there, always upon the fifth step and near the pink peony bushes, fiddling with the ends of her skirt and staring holes into the concrete floor; she could sit there for hours on end, until it got too late and the faint slivers of moonlight weren't enough for the young girl to brave the then shadowy gardens by herself.

Ireyne was stubborn, he knew that all too well – she was stubborn and determined and passionate. Tyrion feared her intense personality would become her eventual downfall.

"Ireyne?"

The girl in question merely hummed in response, not even sparing him a glance.

"You aren't being yourself these days. And I never see you except at the occasional supper, you-"

She laughed lightly, cutting him off. "You've been in Winter Town most of these days, of course you haven't seen me much."

It was true, he hadn't stayed in Winterfell much at all, opting to spend the majority of his time in the cozy confines of the thriving brothel in an otherwise deserted town that surrounded the stone castle. Nevertheless, on the rare occasion that he had found himself amongst the unsolicited company of Starks and Lannisters, Tyrion had noticed Ireyne being exceedingly detached and distracted, her gaze finding a certain bastard's more often than not.

"Being young is no easy task, dear sister," he finally said, carefully measuring his words, "but being young and in love? That is the epitome of catastrophe."

Tyrion could tell by the way in which her wide eyes flew to meet his that he had said the right thing. She didn't say a word yet her silence spoke volumes. He wondered how long ago she had realized this, and whether she had acted on such sentiments. Tyrion could only hope she hadn't.

"Why is it a catastrophe?" Ireyne wondered out loud. "It doesn't seem like a 'catastrophe' in books and ballads and stories that one hears..."

Tyrion almost smiled. "But one must also remember that stories are, after all, stories – lies disguised as fantasies, an ideal prospect that seldom exists. It is best to not think that one's own life would ever turn out to to be like a romantic ballad – our world does not permit it."

Ireyne turned her head away, blinking quickly. "What does our world permit, then?"

Now Tyrion did smile; he smiled gloomily. "Nothing you wish it would, and everything you wish it wouldn't."

* * *

 **IT** was much later, when the winds became even colder than they had been that morning, that Ireyne found herself back on the other side of the door to Jon's chambers. She was aware that it was far far too late, the moon too high in the sky. They had to wake up early tomorrow for tomorrow was the day. Her dresses had all been washed and dried and carefully packed away, so were her boots, as well as her scarves and cloaks and ribbons.

Her last supper at Winterfell that night had required Ireyne to speak to far more people than she would've liked. Sansa had reminded her of her promise to show the Stark girl around the Red Keep. Vaera reminded her to sleep early. Jaime reminded her that they were to leave before the sun reached its peak tomorrow morning. Tyrion reminded her that he was to depart for the Wall. Her heart reminded her to say goodbye to Jon.

She knocked on his door hesitantly, unsure what she was supposed to say. He didn't open his door straightaway; Ireyne wondered if he had gone to sleep. She took a step back, ready to turn around when the door creaked open just so. She saw Jon hold the door opened wider as his eyes found hers.

He was dressed in his bedclothes but he didn't look like he had slept. His clothes weren't wrinkled; the white of his tunic was still perfectly smooth. His hair wasn't tousled like it did whenever he fell asleep; his eyes weren't clouded with sleep.

"I was going to come see you in a while," he muttered softly, his gaze never straying from her face.

"I was tired of waiting."

His lips turned upwards as he stepped back to allow her in. Ireyne slid into his room as stealthily as she had crossed the hallways to get here. She sat down upon his bed gingerly, hands fidgeting with the soft cotton gown she was wearing right now. She avoided looking at Jon, not knowing what she would do if she saw him.

He wandered around his room; she heard his footsteps.

When he returned to her side, he sat down beside her on the bed. They both sat in dark silence, staring ahead at the stern stone wall and the melted wax that hung from the candleholders like stagnant tears.

Ireyne felt hot tears prick the corners of her eyes – she begged herself to not cry now. It was only when Jon grasped her hand did she realize that she had said it out loudly.

"We knew it had to happen," he began tentatively, untrusting of his own words.

Ireyne sniffed. "We did, and we said we'd end this when the time came."

"We did. Its for the best – for both of us."

"It is."

He tried to not say it, but he could stop himself. "I just hadn't thought it'd be this hard."

"Neither had I," a lone tear managed escaping her eye.

"Ireyne?" he asked her, begging her to look at him. When her glistening eyes did look at him, Jon felt the last of his confidence melt away. "I don't know what to say anymore... Don't know how to say goodbye, to say all that I want to."

Ireyne understood. She too wanted to say so much, tell him she loved him, tell him how being with him was the closest she'd ever felt to ecstasy, how happy he made her, and how sorry she was to leave. But words escaped her just as they escaped him.

So instead of searching for useless words and wasting their last moment any further, Ireyne did the one thing she was certain would say all that she needed to – she kissed him. Jon didn't hesitate, urgently kissing her back, sucking her bottom lip between his own and biting it softly. She let out a small moan, or perhaps that was him, and they moved even closer, entwining arms around one another with practiced ease.

When the need for air become too great to ignore, Jon broke away from her mouth to stare at her with wide eyes.

Ireyne looked gorgeous, as stunningly gorgeous as she always did in moments like these - flushed and panting, the green of her eyes a mere thin ring around the blown pupils. It ached him to think that he would never get to see her like this again - he wouldn't get to see her at all.

As if she had sensed the thoughts raging in his mind, Ireyne tenderly threaded her fingers through Jon's hair. She leaned her forehead against his, feeling his warm breath upon her face. "Stop thinking about it all. Be with me, here, now."

She knew she wouldn't be able to say much; Jon wouldn't either. Perhaps somethings were best left unsaid.

When he claimed her lips again, Ireyne understood just where she would be spending tonight. His fingers were caught on the laces of her shift; she pulled his tunic off. It was foolish to do this again, now, when time had nearly run out. Ireyne knew this moment would yield one moment of pleasure, and three more of misery. _But being young and in love is the epitome of catastrophe_.

She didn't know how, but Ireyne soon found herself on her back as Jon hovered above her, His hands were heavy yet gentle upon her hips. His chest felt smooth and heated under her fingers. Jon whispered her name – a soft declaration, a gentle plea – and Ireyne forgot that anything beyond them even existed anymore.

If this was their last night together, then Ireyne was determined to make the most of it, and judging by the expression on his face, so was Jon. If tonight was all they had, then she wanted to surrender herself one last time. Tonight, her body, her mind, her soul was his, Jon's, and she wouldn't have given this moment away for any greater joy.

* * *

 **GENTLE** snores flitted across her back, reminding Ireyne of the presence behind her. An arm was draped around her waist, a hand resting dangerously close to her heaving breasts. She clasped a hand on her mouth in a pointless bid to stifle her sobs; hot tears continued pouring restlessly from her eyes, the feather pillow soaking up the lone evidence of her sorrow.

From her position on Jon's bed, Ireyne could see the window and the slowly lightening sky outside. She had watched it turn from velvety black to silken grey to burnished blue. Judging by the sky now, she still had a short while before the sun properly rose to take its place back from the faint moon.

She rubbed her moist eyes with the back of her hand, feeling the last traces of sleep flee. It should have been too comfortable here, too warm, too loving, too wonderful, but Ireyne could only feel cold numbness. Her heart ached for what she had to do today, for who she had to say goodbye to. She tried to string her words together, _I love you, I'll miss you, be safe_ , but realized soon enough that she was no more capable of conveying her feelings to him this morning than she had been last night.

As the first slivers of yellow light appeared upon the horizons in the distance, Ireyne faintly heard the sounds of horses neighing, steel clanking, and boots stomping outside. The household would awaken earlier than usual today. In just a few minutes, Vaera would begin preparing a hot bath for Ireyne, readying her for the long journey home.

It was time for Ireyne to ready herself as well.

Taking a deep breath in, Ireyne carefully extracted herself from Jon's strong grip. Quietly, so silently her feet might as well have been gliding upon the stone floor, she collected her clothes from where they had been discarded by the bed on Jon's side. She dressed swiftly, nimbly tying the laces of her shift, smoothening her golden hair back into a loose bun. Her gaze landed on Jon's peaceful face, watching him slowly inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling in a mesmerizing pattern. She fiddled with her bronze ring idly, wondering vaguely if Jon would be upset that she had left so soon, although she figured they would both be upset either way.

Ireyne pressed a soft kiss to his temple, letting her lips linger for a moment. When she pulled back, without wasting an instant anymore, without allowing herself another stolen moment, Ireyne turned away from Jon and walked out of his chambers as quickly and as quietly as she could for the last time.

* * *

 **(END NOTES)**

Aaaand we're down to the final three chapters in book I! Thank you for sticking with me and Joreyne so far, I hope you'll like where things go from now on.

As always, any votes and comments will be greatly appreciated.

Until next time, cheers!

\- Elaine :)


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